


Measure of a Jaeger

by orphan_account



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: AI AU, And extra character death, Canonical Character Death, Sentient Jaeger AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 08:38:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AI AU. Jaegers were created with programs pre-installed, programs that were blank slates until their first drift. All the basic controls were in place, but no one tried to mimic intuition or human knowledge. They were given the ability to learn from their  pilots. They drifted with each other and they drifted with their jaegers. Everything that they were, besides the most basic controls, came from their pilots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Due to the size this story wound up being (40,000+ words) it’s now in four chapters. Trust me, it’s to protect your sanity. Art can be found at: http://tragertig.tumblr.com/tagged/RarePair-art which was all done by my amazing friend jimsdeadbones.  
> I’d just like to say thanks to everyone who’s been waiting on this, especially Pamela, Rafiki, and Leo. Hopefully this won’t disappoint!

_When the kaiju first landed, everyone had hoped it would never happen again. That hope was encompassing, almost strong enough to convince people it wouldn’t happen again. The second attack hadn’t been enough to kill that hope, the desperate need to just survive and somehow have a world where the kaiju were nothing but the past. After the third and fourth kaiju hit, the weak hope finally died. There was one simple fact presented to the world: it was never going to stop._

_New weapons were needed, the giant nuclear graveyards left behind by conventional technology too much of a cost. People were dying, if not from the kaiju then from the measures taken to kill the beasts. To fight monsters, more monsters were created. Humanity could see no other option._

_The jaeger program was born from the work of desperate scientists, men and women who wanted nothing more than to find any way to save their culture. Things seemed promising, at first. The jaegers were meant to solve all the problems. In the end, they just made more._

_A pilot couldn’t bear the neural load. Even when they tried with two, there was still too much. Other measures weren’t feasible. They needed someone inside them, controlling them. Remote control didn’t work. Two pilots weren’t working, three didn’t seem to make enough of a difference either._

_That’s where we came in._

_Someone, his name long since forgotten, tried to create artificial intelligence that could control a jaeger. At first, it seemed we could manage. The first few tests had been promising, far more promising than any of the pilot tests. Things had started to look up, for a little while at least._

_We weren’t able to mimic the reactions of a human, the intuition. No matter how long they tested with us, we were never strong enough. AI’s could replicate so many of the human responses we’d seen but we had no intuition. We were blank slates that could never be filled properly. There were so many things we couldn’t copy, no matter how long our programs were refined, no matter how long we were revamped and edited._

_The next step was to try and combine the two failed ideas. Jaegers were created with programs pre-installed, programs that were blank until their first drift. All the basic controls were in place, but no one tried to mimic intuition or human knowledge. They gave us the ability to learn from our pilots. They drifted with each other and they drifted with us. We were made from them. Everything that we were, besides our most basic controls, came from our pilots. We learned and we evolved. We saw their minds and reacted as we formed, becoming the best possible medium._

_We started winning. AIs were given more abilities, we could be temporarily transferred out of the jaeger for repairs, could take more of the pain so our pilots wouldn’t have to. We started to become the closest lines of code could be to people. We grew personalities, gained more abilities that meant we could help the people that made up who we were. Every AI was individual. We had names, in another lifetime we might have rights._

_AIs were never going to be enough to pilot a jaeger alone. The scientists simply made do with what they had available, making us more advanced so every jaeger never truly just had a generation 1 AI. Every jaeger that was built had a more advanced AI and every model that survived long enough was given the chance for updates. The system seemed to be working unbelievably well. Humanity was fighting back and they were winning. Even we started to believe our pilots could truly win, could stop this apocalypse, and we were computers._

_Computers should have known better than to hope. Things were going so wonderfully for so long that it started to seem impossible for anyone to lose. Then everything collapsed._

**_November 2, 2019_ **

Striker's conn pod was quiet when Chuck stepped into it, glancing around at the wanly glowing panels with a small frown. Lucky had always looked different when she was awake. Always.

"You alright, Blue? Look a little spooked," Kory asked, clapping Chuck on his armoured shoulder and guiding him towards the left. "First drift sucks serious cock, mate, but getting spooked beforehand don't help."

He shot a small glare at the grinning man, letting him guide him across the space without a word. The comments on his tongue would only lead to a fight and he didn't really have time for that. Not today.

"Where's dad?"

He regretted the words almost the second he spoke them, relatively sure the older pilot would make some sort of joke. Kory always made jokes, normally at the worst times. There must have been something on Chuck's face that told his almost friend this was definitely not the time for a joke though, because Kory's smug grin faded and he almost looked serious.

"Herc'll be here in a minute. They wanted to double check the new helmet was good, alright? Bloke's getting old, techs happen to wanna keep his suit in good nick." His eyes were warmer than usual, the smile comforting instead of snarky as he rested his hand on Chuck's shoulder. "You two'll be fine, kid. Even if this ain't perfect, Striker'll help next time. And yes, Blue, he's here. Things are always quiet before the first drift."

Chuck lifted his chin, scowling as he sniped, "I know that. I know how fucking Jaegers work."

"I know, kiddo, just friendly advice. Whatever," Kory said, a hint of chiding in his tone. "Just relax, yeah?"

He didn't reply for a moment, chewing his lip before saying, "Didn't know we were friends."

"Brat," he stated brightly, glancing over at the door to the conn pod and shooting Herc an apologetic smile. "Hey, look, Herc's here. I'll get outta here. If something fucks up, I'll be in LOCCENT."

His nod was jerkier than he wanted but if Kory noticed he didn't say anything, just shooting a small grin before making his way out of the conn pod. Chuck could hear the distinctive sounds of drive suit boots against the floor, the same sound he'd heard when Kory had walked him in, but couldn't think of anything to say as his father took his side of the conn pod. There wasn't anything to say.

"Striker Eureka, systems ready for drop?" Herc bit out, glancing around at the wanly glowing panels.

The voice was strange, not masculine or feminine, precise and more robotic than Chuck ever expected as it said, "Systems performing at optimal levels, Ranger Hansen. Drop can be initiated at your discretion, sir."

"Jesus, it sounds ridiculous," Chuck muttered, swinging slightly against his harness as he glanced around. "Lucky never sounded like that. She sounded better."

Herc shot him a warning look, tersely pointing out, "There hasn't been a drift yet. Striker's blank until then, you know that."

"Striker Eureka, ready for drop," Chuck said irritably, ignoring the chiding look from his father as his hand dropped away from the comm button.

"Herc, you wanna confirm?" Emelia asked, hints of fond amusement in her tone. "I trust you Chuckie, but I need both of you to comm."

"Ready for drop," Herc said, shooting Chuck another warning look at his quiet grumble. "It's protocol. Smarten up."

Before any of the acidic comments on his tongue could escape, Striker's conn pod dropped. It was nothing like what he expected, stomach lodging firmly in his throat as they plummeted towards the rest of the jaeger. The jarring fall slowed just as abruptly as it had started, half-convincing Chuck that he was going to throw up, before everything settled and the servos started rotating into place. He took a second to swallow, swinging slightly in his harness, before reaching up to check the AI readout.

Clearing his throat and hoping he sounded alright, Chuck drawled, "Systems ready for Drift."

"Striker Eureka, prepared for Drift," Herc reported to LOCCENT, aware that giving his son any last minute advice wouldn't be well-received. All he could do was let it happen.

"Initiating drift sequence," Striker said, voice still strange to Chuck. "Ten... Nine..."

Chuck glanced over, hesitating for the briefest moment before asking, "You ready, old man?"

The expected 'Don't call me that' never came, the conn pod silent besides the sound of the AI and the hum of machinery and tech. Chuck had never exactly minded silence, but anything would've been good at that moment.

"Three... Two... One."

The drift was strange, swirling around him and dragging him into memories that weren't his own but seemed to melt into them and created what had to be the most confusing mess of thoughts, a mess he’d never fully managed to imagine. Some of what he could only assume were his father's memories seemed familiar, different angles and emotions colouring the images and making things that little bit more confusing to even try and differentiate.

Then the swirl of memories slowed and he was himself again, the connection still there and strong but less disorienting. The hum of the jaeger had changed slightly too, louder and steadier, and if the strange pressure in the drift was anything to judge by it was because Striker was starting to establish itself. It was silent between the two of them for another moment before Chuck adjusted to the shared headspace and glanced over at his father.

"Ready to get this shite done?" he asked, ignoring the fact Herc could probably feel the nervousness swirling in his head. "Sooner we get the training exercises done, sooner we can do something bloody useful."

"AI initialization needs to be confirmed," came the quick reminder, Herc checking the panels above his head as he waited for LOCCENT or Striker to tell him what they needed to know. "And mind your language. You can't be talking like that around the press, or on record."

He rolled his eyes, muttering, "It doesn't bloody matter if there's a fucking kaiju attacking."

"Kid has a point." The voice was distorted, shifting pitch sharply and abruptly before slowly settling into a completely unremarkable male voice. "If it’s coming at us quick enough it isn't going to matter if shitdick is swearing."

"We created another Blue." Kory's voice came over from the LOCCENT, accompanied by a hissed warning from Emelia and his amused laughter. "Christ, look what you did. Created an utter bastard."

Chuck's retort was less than witty and in another situation Herc probably would've reminded him that the Marshal would be listening to the tapes. The pressure in the back of the drift, familiar but still foreign, had more of his attention than his son's sarcastic banter. The drift didn't feel the same as it had with Scott, not that he had expected it to, and he could almost feel the new presence shifting through his memories, dragging some closer to the surface than he'd like.

_'Lucky?'_

His own curiosity seemed to surprise the jaeger, giving Herc a chance to push the memories further down before Chuck caught onto anything that happened in Lucky's last deployment. He didn't need to see that. Not today. The pressure eased slightly as Striker withdrew, settling back into the flow of the drift and just observing what reached him.

"Chuck. Time for the run," he said, feeling the burst of excitement and nervousness flare up over the drift with a small chuckle. Maybe their first run wouldn't go too bad.

 

"Do I call you Chuck?"

He hadn't quite expecting the question, pausing in skimming over schematics to shoot a questioning look at the hologram. Striker's face had returned to the grey state, the only sign it could be human the two green lights instead of eyes and the perfunctory mouth. It was still strange to look at, something about how blank it was fundamentally wrong but it was less confusing than watching it change as he tried to talk. That was a small mercy.

"What else would you call me?" he questioned, sitting up a little more. "And ain't you meant to be working on looking like a human, not asking about language?"

The green stare was unnerving, made worse by the fact he didn’t appear to have eyelids, as Striker slowly replied, "Pilots are meant to set boundaries. I know that. It's in my program. You make us, you're allowed to tell us where the line is."

"You can stop calling me shitdick. And Blue's off limits, its Kory shite," Chuck muttered at the expectant silence, not expecting the wide grin. "Jesus, do you wanna just find a face? That was just bloody disorienting."

Striker's smile vanished as he scooted a little closer, flicking the holographic screen so Chuck could see it. The face looking up at him looked a little too much like Scott, probably too much for Herc to cope with, and he shook his head. Striker frowned slightly, flicking the screen back around to adjust it yet again and Chuck resigned himself to actually having to say something useful at some point.

"The grin was good. Maybe you should keep that," he suggested, glancing back down at the schematics. "Ain't really gonna be much use, but just a suggestion."

The bright grin was irritatingly rewarding and Chuck resolved not to say anything else just to avoid the expression.

That lasted ten minutes.

**_February 29, 2020_ **

The alarm blared through the entire complex, dragging most of the staff out of varying states of restfulness. The night shift workers flew into action, going through the routine they all wished wasn’t necessary as the jaegers were prepared and maintenance crews bolted down towards their stations. It was an all too familiar happening these days. The wins never stopped another battle.

The youngest Becket pilot snapped to awareness, clumsily dragging himself out of bed with a drowsy grin. A quick glance at the clock told him what he needed to know and Raleigh turned, slapping his hands against the bed next to his brother's head. Yancy just grumbled, still mostly asleep, as Raleigh grabbed for the small device sitting next to the sink and quickly booted it up.

"Yancy! Come on! Gips'll be up in a second and we need to get going," he insisted, turning back to try and rouse his brother as the normal whirs and beeps that accompanied their AI initializing filled the room. "Category three. Codename, Knifehead."

"Tendo wanted to call it Clusterfuck."

Raleigh paused his struggle to wake his brother, shooting a small grin at the hologram seeming to lounge against the small desk, before turning his attention back to Yancy and yanking at the blankets.

"Yance! We don't have time for this. People are in danger!"

"Did you miss the part where this is such a weird-ass kaiju Tendo tried to name it Clusterfuck? And that I went to that much effort to find that out?"

Yancy groaned, pulling himself out of bed and shooting a glare at his strange little family before asking, "What time is it?"

"Two," Raleigh chirped, scampering over to the small fridge and grabbing out a bottle of orange juice.

"AM?" he muttered, not really needing an answer. Of course it was AM. He rubbed his neck, trying to work out the sore spot, as he slowly made his way across the room. Morning attacks always seemed to be worse. Before dawn was a truly terrible time to wake up.

“Gonna be our fifth kill to date,” Raleigh reminded, exchanging excited glances with Gipsy. Yancy still wasn’t used to the way the AI managed to be such a strange mixture of their personalities, even after all the time the three of them had spent together, but sometimes it was easier than others.

Almost like he knew what he was thinking the hologram turned his head, flickering slightly as Raleigh’s elbow poked through the image, before teasing, “Yeah, Yance. Come on. Get excited!”

Raleigh bounded forward, blatantly ignoring his brother’s tired state of mind, and tried to initiate their normal fist bump. Yancy did his best, shooting a wan glare at their AI as he laughed before pulling back and stumbling into the bathroom. Even at two in the morning, some things were still the same.

“Hey, kid,” he interrupted, ignoring the kicked puppy look Gipsy threw him as his sentence was cut short. “Don’t get cocky.”

Pushing the door shut, he shook his head as he heard the banter almost immediately continue. It was always like that. Gipsy fitted into their group like he'd always been there, like he just belonged. He did belong, really. He was made from them, as strange as that sounded. Part of him was intrinsically Gipsy, somehow, but he was mostly just them.

Yancy sometimes thought that should disturb him more than it did.

 

The drive was slotted into the small port on the wall of the conn pod, a blue light flashing incessantly for a moment before settling down into a low glow. The controls hummed softly as Gipsy synced up with his body, panels flickering as the giant machine started up. Light flickered in the centre of the room before solidifying into Gipsy's hologram, brightness pulsing slightly as he ran through the rest of his sync.

He didn't know who thought the word the first time, but he had never been able to find anything more suitable. He felt better when he was in the jaeger, back in his proper body, but it never felt perfect if it was just him. The drift made him who he was. He always felt best when he was in the drift.

_Home. Home home home homehomehome._

"Whoa, take it easy Gips," Yancy chided gently, stepping towards his side of the conn pod as the hologram flickered and disappeared.

"Yeah, don't want to overheat again," Raleigh chimed in, glancing up to check the readings on Gipsy's AI. "Romeo probably doesn't have time to save you today."

The voice coming from the ceiling was tinnier than usual but still definitely Gipsy as he whined, "That was one time. Can we just forget that happened?"

Yancy and Raleigh exchanged glances before the younger cheerfully continued, "It's alright, Gips. I know you just wanted to see him."

"Oh, Romeo, Romeo, where the fuck are you? I fucked up," Yancy added helpfully, locking in his boots as Raleigh snickered.

"I hate you both," Gipsy said seriously, but his voice lacked venom.

The techs barely paid attention to exchange, going through the practiced motions of connecting the suits to the conn pod without a word. It was only their fifth kill but everything just worked. Tendo interrupted before things could get worse, stopping things from escalating with his cheerful greeting. The normal banter, normal run-through happened without much input from the AI as he prepared in his own way for their drift. It was different for him. He didn't have memories of his own like his pilots did. He didn't have an entire life, years of memories and experiences and emotions. That was the way it was meant to be. All he had to do was watch the drift, feel it flow, help guide them if they needed it. It seemed pointless at times but he couldn't consider leaving them. They were his family. If they wanted him there he'd be there.

"Systems ready for drop," he reported, catching Yancy and Raleigh's attention and just making out the tail end of Pentecost's entrance. Hopefully Tendo wouldn't get in trouble for being unprofessional. Again.

"Release for drop," Yancy relayed to LOCCENT, all business now he knew Pentecost was listening.

Raleigh's voice was lighter than his brother's but, for him, still serious as he confirmed, "Gipsy Danger, ready for the big drop."

Almost instantly, the gantry holding the conn pod in place released its hold and the cranial frame of the jaeger dropped. Even without the Drift, Yancy could practically feel his brother's exhilaration as they plummeted, a short chuckle escaping as his stomach jumped and vision blurred slightly. The ridiculous fall was cut short when Gipsy's head lurched and slowed, easing into the cervical assembly and starting to lock into place.

Raleigh reached for the console again, double checking and triple checking that Gipsy was ready for drift, as he shifted slightly in his spot. He already knew it was ready, Gipsy was always ready, but he couldn't help but check. Another code later, the screen in front of them initialized and the small meter that measured the AI appeared in the corner of both of their view screens.

"Pilot-to-pilot connection protocol sequence," Gipsy practically drawled, any hint of the professionalism Yancy had hoped he'd pick up on completely absent. "Engine and stuff starting. And now, gentlemen, if you were able to look outside you'd see we're about to get dropped into the ocean."

Raleigh ducked his head, choking back a laugh while Yancy looked between the console above them and his brother with a resigned sigh. He took a second to feel grateful that no one had left the comm link open before shooting Raleigh a look and starting to type in the next sequence of commands.

“Gipsy Danger, ready and aligned, sir,” Raleigh said, shooting Yancy a grin.

The comm crackled for a second before Pentecost said, “Rangers, this is Marshall Stacker Pentecost. Prepare for neural handshake.”

Tendo started the countdown, the normal pre-drop rhythm settling into place

Yancy was the one who felt the need to ask, "You ready, Gips?"

"I'm built for this, you know. I'm always ready," he replied, not bothering to try and hide the fond annoyance at the question. They'd see it in the drift anyway.

He chuckled, shaking his head before he returned his brother's grin without a thought, drawling, "Ready to step inside my head, kid?"

"Please, after you. Age before beauty, old man," Raleigh said, the light teasing making Yancy chuckle again as he looked back to the screen.

Gipsy wished his hologram was active, just so he could roll his eyes, as he announced, “Neural handshake, initiated.”

The drift started smoothly, sucking all three of them into memories and emotions. Raleigh and Yancy's memories rolled over each other, mixing and blending and sharing with each other and the small presence at the back of the drift. Unobtrusive. Quiet. There was barely anything in Gipsy's AI to share, just glimpses of jaeger schematics and times they already knew about, had seen together. He just floated, seeing everything and giving little. Some pilots didn't feel comfortable with it. Raleigh and Yancy didn't even notice the oddness anymore.

And then they were drifting, connection strong and buzzing, and Gipsy almost sighed in relief at the warm emotions that washed through their connection. Happiness. Excitement. Just a touch of nervousness. His image flickered back into existence, a copy of the drivesuits his pilots wore replacing his sweater and jeans, and he glanced between his brothers with a grin. They didn’t notice him, but he wasn’t surprised. They would in a minute.

“Right hemisphere’s calibrating,” Yancy said, lifting his hand and twisting his wrist slightly as the drift settled smoothly into place.

“Left hemisphere calibrating,” Raleigh added, the three falling into sync as they fluidly moved through their usual start-up movement. He could feel the reverberations running through his arms, a burst of excitement shooting through the drift and drawing a chuckle from Yancy, before everything was back to business.

Pentecost’s voice over the intercom helped them focus as he said, “Gentlemen, your orders are to hold the Miracle Mile off Anchorage. Copy?”

“Copy that, sir,” Raleigh confirmed, glancing over at Yancy as he looked at the sonar readout on their screens.

Yancy paused, eyes skimming the map in front of them, before starting, “Sir, there’s still a civilian vessel in the gulf--”

“Gentlemen,” Pentecost interjected, sending a bristle of irritation through the drift. “You’re protecting a city of two million people. You will not risk those lives for a boat that holds ten. Am I clear?”

The three of them exchanged glances as he spoke, none of them extremely impressed with that. Ideas bubbled in the drift, flicking through the three minds as Yancy agreed with Pentecost, almost on automatic.

“Man, that’s cold,” Raleigh said, flicking one of the switches a little more roughly than necessary as he voiced what had already flown through the drift. “You both know what I’m thinking.”

“We’re in your brain.” Yancy and Gipsy shared a quick look before his attention returned to Raleigh. “We know.”

“And you know we’re thinking the same,” Gipsy chipped in, shooting Raleigh a grin.

The little grin he got in return sent a burst of happiness through Gipsy, despite the nervousness that accompanied every mission. This was going to work. Fifth notch on the belt.

“Let’s go fishing.”

 

It wasn’t working. His programming was going haywire, pain erupting and flooding him as his hologram flickered violently, left arm not quite coming back when the rest of him did. He still didn’t understand why it hurt so much, why someone had thought that was a good idea, but he couldn’t focus on that. He could feel the pain reverberating back through the drift and tried to cut it off, hold the feeling of damage back from his brothers. Raleigh's pained gasping told him it wasn't working.

"Gips! Just get the cannon!" he choked out, and Gipsy really approved of that idea with all his heart, but he already knew there wasn’t a chance of charging in time. Even with an overload sequence. He hadn’t been designed for that.

None of them had time to say anything else before the kaiju was back, claws raking across the conn pod and making Gipsy flicker again. It was so hard to focus. Cannon. Overload. He had to overload the cannon. He’d almost finished the command sequence when another bout of pain shot through him, so much sharper than the last, and he could barely make sense of the conn pod as his projection fell apart.

“The hull! It went through the hull! Gips!” Raleigh – was it Raleigh? – was yelling, like it wasn’t obvious, like they couldn’t all feel it.

The fear and panic was shooting through the drift, spiking as Knifehead’s claws ripped in further, and Gipsy could barely make out, “Raleigh, listen to me! You need to–”

Whatever Raleigh needed to do was cut off by a scream, the burst of pain and terror flying through the drift making it even harder to focus on getting anything to respond. And then there was nothing. It was all silent where it should be warm and solid and Yancy. There hadn’t been that sort of silence since before they started drifting.

“Gipsy!”

The rest of the commands were fractured images through the drift, harder to understand without Yancy there to throw in the rest, and as Knifehead kept tearing into his left side it was only harder and harder to focus. He and Raleigh had barely managed to fire the canon before his systems stopped working properly and the silence was total.

 

**_March 1, 2020_ **

Striker couldn’t bring himself to stop watching the report. He knew he should, before Chuck or Herc woke up and caught him, but he couldn’t. They were losing jaegers. He couldn’t ignore that quite as easily as his pilots could. They were a dying race, going extinct even faster than the humans, and every single death hurt him. Not all of them were lucky enough to end up like his aunt, if her fate could be considered lucky.

It was Gipsy Danger. He’d never paid much attention to the jaeger, merely noting his existence and going back to what he did best, but it still made his technically non-existent heart clench. Gipsy had been good at what he did. He’d seen it in Herc’s memories, heard it from Lucky. Gipsy was good at what he did but he had still been torn apart.

“Striker?” His brother’s voice was still rough from sleep and slurred. “Whaddya doing, you wanker? People are tryna sleep here.”

He didn’t understand what the sound was, even though he was the one that made it, but Chuck apparently recognised it. His program felt jumbled, flashes of all the other jaegers they’d lost flying from his databanks and clouding his processors. There weren’t enough left. If they lost anymore they wouldn’t be any good. They wouldn’t be able to protect them. He wouldn’t be able to protect his family.

Chuck’s face appeared in his view, clouded for some reason he couldn’t understand, but he couldn’t get his voice to work well enough to ask what was happening. Striker just knew he wanted it to stop, whatever it was. He wanted a lot of things to stop.

“Christ, are you trying to cry? You’re a hologram, dumbass, you can’t cry.” His tone was a bizarre mixture of scolding and completely and utterly lost. “What the hell happened? Got a virus or something?”

He could barely even get his arm to work, gesturing towards the broadcast still playing on a loop. Gipsy Danger, severely damaged. One pilot dead, the other in hospital. He couldn’t imagine how it felt, didn’t want to, but it didn’t stop his mind from trying to supply even more conflicting and painful emotions. Empty. He’d be empty if he lost even one of them. He couldn’t survive without them. His entire purpose was to help them protect people, to protect them. If he lost them, then he’d be a failure.

His brother looked extremely uncomfortable, glancing back towards the bunk bed before focusing again. “You, uh, gotta breathe. Or whatever you call the simulation of it you do. You’re crying. Somehow. But it ain’t helping nothing, you hear me? Crying won’t, uhm, fuck, it won’t…” He trailed off with an annoyed groan. “I don’t even know how you can cry. That ain’t in your programming, but it won’t help nothing. You gotta try and get a grip, Striker. You can--”

“You’re terrible at talking,” Striker managed, voice still not cooperating. “I don’t know what’s happening, Charlie.”

He bristled slightly, tersely correcting him. “It’s Chuck. You know that, you wanker. And I told you, you’re crying. It’s something some people do when they’re upset. But you’re a hologram, so you shouldn’t even be able to mimic that. Christ, you’re bloody hopeless.”

Chuck reached over, turning off the broadcast before fiddling a bit and bringing up the list of living jaegers. It was too short. There were jaegers on there he had known, some he’d even looked up to, and they were all torn apart like Gipsy. There were too many of them dead.

“See these buggers? They’re still around, alright? And you are gonna work with them and we’re gonna fucking stop the kaiju cunts,” he said insistently, not sounding like he was going to brook any argument. “But you ain’t gonna be able to do a motherfucking thing if you keep this shit up. Go to fucking bed.  We’ll get the old man to agree to a training run in the morning, drag Vulcan into it. Until then, fucking shut up. You aren’t helping like this.”

He almost laughed. “You’re a fucking prick, Charlie. A complete fucking prick.”

“Then so are you,” he retaliated, which may have ranked among his wittier responses. He reached over, shutting down Striker’s projection before he could retaliate, and for once the blackness was more than welcome.

They never talked about Gipsy again.

 

**_March 14, 2022_ **

The small cot he called a bed was uncomfortable but, after the last site and being trapped on the floor, a blessing after a long day of work. His bag served as a good enough pillow and for a few moments he just allowed himself to relax, staring at the worn ceiling as he thought.

The wall was never going to work. Kaiju tore through it like paper, aggression and mass turning weeks of work into rubble in mere minutes. He'd seen what the kaiju could do and a wall was useless. If a jaeger couldn't succeed, there was no way a wall could. The kaiju were only getting bigger, and if Gipsy hadn’t been able to stand up against that, the wall couldn’t hold up against anything crawling out of the ocean now.

Raleigh heaved a tired sigh, letting his eyes close as the headache that had been building all day really started to make an appearance. The pressure in the back of his mind felt too much like the drift hangover, something the scientists said was an impossibility after all this time, but he didn't fight the tug. Images flashed behind his eyes, none of them he recognised, before he vaguely made out the shape of a jaeger in the orange-tinted light. Coyote Tango. Oblivion Bay.

He could just feel snatches of emotion, fear, pain, abandonment, before he snapped his eyes open and squirmed until he could lie on his side, trying to ignore the growing itch. Gipsy was disabled. It couldn't be a ghost drift. Even if it was, it wouldn't make any difference. Yancy was gone and he was working on the wall now. Gipsy didn't have a place in that life.

 

**_June 11, 2023_ **

It took a second for his processors to catch up, everything fuzzy and pixelated as he tried to look around. There was a voice, a voice trying to tell him something, but it sounded like gibberish. The vague tingling in his left side struck a chord of fear in his chest, snippets of the last drift flashing through his processors before he realised something. He hadn’t heard that voice before.

“Who the hell are you?” he rasped, a moment of amazement for his speakers flickering through his mind as his eyes finally started to focus. “Where’s Rals?”

“Your pilot is not here,” the voice said, lilting and accented in a way that sounded like it should be familiar. “After your last deployment, he was released.”

The strange feeling in his side intensified, flashes of Knifehead tearing through him, Raleigh’s scream as his arm was ripped away, before he managed to spit out, “Then why am I awake? I can’t run without a pilot. Put me down.”

The calm gaze didn’t leave him, brown eyes more sympathetic than he expected from anyone besides his pilots, as she firmly informed him, “You are to be refitted. There is a plan to close the breach. You are needed.”

“I haven’t been needed in a long time. Don’t you have someone else to bring back?” Gipsy muttered, looking away from her. The gaze was too understanding after years of solitude, too much to cope with when everything was still so raw. “I’m a Mark III. Go dig up someone newer.”

He could see the looks between some of the technicians, exasperated gazes that spoke volumes about how they felt about his attitude, but no one said anything. The woman gestured calmly towards the door, offering him the perfect escape, and he wasn’t going to throw that away. He darted right towards the escape route, barely registering when he ran right through a man, before he was in the hallway and the heavy door behind him was swinging open.

“There are few options to restore,” the woman continued calmly, stepping past him and leading the way down the corridor like nothing had happened. “You were selected by myself and the Marshall and are the best option available.”

“I won’t be any use without my pilots,” Gipsy bit out, watching her fingers curl tighter around her tablet. Maybe she wasn't as unflappable as she'd seemed. "You aren't gonna find a use for me without pilots."

She didn't reply for a moment, still just walking down the hallway, before murmuring, "The restoration has been cleared by the Marshall. I am only in charge of the program. If you are disagreeable to seeing it through, you can be returned to… rest."

The hesitation before the last word made him wince, the implication clear. 'Rest'. That wasn't an option for him, not now. The woman kept walking, leading him past the other people in the hallway without a word, and Gipsy didn't want to follow her. He didn't know her, he didn't trust her, and all he wanted was his pilots. He wanted his brother.

"I want to have input into this," he demanded, well aware he was probably pushing too hard. "If you're going to fix me, I want a say.”

A short sigh escaped her, the irritated sound making him grin, before she tersely said, "Marshall Pentecost will need to be informed. If it is allowed, you may be consulted."

With the distinct feeling that was the best offer he was going to get, his shoulders slumped and he just followed her without another complaint. By the time they reached the small office with the holographic screen, one that he knew he could interact with, he was starting to regret snapping at her.  It wasn’t her fault. She settled into one of the chairs at the table, setting her tablet down and starting to look through her files. He didn’t say anything for a little while, lingering near the door as he sorted everything out in his head, before clearing his throat and waiting until she’d looked up.

"You never did tell me your name,” he said, wincing slightly at the accusatory way the words came out. “Because I was yelling a lot, but still."

The look on her face wasn’t exactly impressed but she still humoured him, saying, “Mako Mori.”

“Well, Miss Mori. Would you like me to just shut up so you can explain the repair schedule? I can do that,” he said, smiling awkwardly.  

 

**_September 23, 2023_ **

If had been months since he'd woken up and no one would tell him much of anything. There was no sign of Raleigh. The only people he recognised were Tendo and Pentecost, and he wasn't exactly interested in sitting for a chat with them. Pentecost wouldn’t tell him anything anyway, and Tendo didn’t need to talk about that night. It was bad enough one of them couldn’t stop reliving it. And then there was Mako. Mako, who had far too much work to do to keep him company, but despite that they were still sitting there. 

Thin fingers hovered over the tears in his image, almost triggering the pixilation he hated so much. The silence stretched for a moment, a silence he couldn't figure out how to break as she traced the lines, careful not to disrupt his display. No one had looked at him like that since he was around his pilots, had looked at him like a person. He wasn't ready for the ache, the one that would be centred in a human's chest.

"We can have your image repaired," Mako said, leaning back in her seat and pulling her tablet closer. "It will be simple. There is only small damage to the projection area of your program."

"I don't want it repaired," Gipsy blurted, leaning forward and grabbing uselessly at her wrist. "I don't want it fixed. It's fine. I want it to stay."

Her eyes were wary as she obligingly pulled her hand away from the tablet, letting the silence hang for a moment before cautiously asking, "Why do you prefer this?"

_Raleigh, listen to me!_

Gipsy couldn't control the flickering, barely able to ignore the need to just retreat back into the device and not have to deal with this. It wouldn't stop the ghost drift, the fleeting images only coming faster when he couldn't focus on something else.

"It's all I have left. Of Yancy. Of both of them." He couldn't meet her eyes, glancing down and looking at the curling lines of code running through the tears. "I don't want to lose what I have left."

"You keep them, for your family." Her voice was still quiet, suiting the mood of the conversation, but there wasn't judgment or confusion in her tone. When he risked a glance up, her gaze was still guarded, but understanding. "I will make a note that they are to remain. The other damage will be repaired as your body is refitted."

He nodded his thanks, not quite sure how he could express how much the action meant to him in two little words, before asking, "Do you know who my pilots are going to be? I'd like to meet them before the drift. I think...” Gipsy trailed off, trying to remember if an established AI had ever been given two new pilots, but drew a blank. "It might be easier for them if they know me. I'm already established, which isn't normal, and I don't want to make this harder."

Mako looked at her tablet, pulling up the list of candidates and titling the screen so he could see. It didn't really answer his question, but he was relatively sure she wasn't even meant to show him that much. All he knew was they hadn't decided yet. There was some candidate they wanted to recruit. There was one glaring absence, though.

"You aren't on here." Gipsy glanced up, watching her shoulders stiffen. "I thought you would've been. You know the most about my systems. You're giving me a goddamn sword!"

He couldn't quite keep a hint of childish excitement out of his voice, and judging by the quirk of her lips she'd noticed it too. "Don't you want to be a pilot? You carry yourself like you could be one, dumb as that sounds."

"I do. More than anything." She shrugged, brushing strands of bright blue hair off her face as she thought. "I am not a candidate. The Marshal has his reasons."

Gipsy shifted closer, too caught up in his thoughts to consider whether it would be rude in her eyes, asking, "Do you have a simulator score?"

"Thirty-seven drops, thirty-seven kills," she said, justified hints of pride in her tone as she shot him a shy smile. "I am running another test in two days."

He leaned forward, ducking his head slightly to catch as her eyes as he offered, "Maybe if Pentecost changes his mind, you can be my pilot. I think you'd be amazing. You know more about my systems that Rals or Yance ever did."

That shy smile grew as she ducked her head, hair falling forward and framing her face again as she dragged the tablet closer and returned her attention to the list of repairs. Gipsy may not have been the most socially adept of the Becket's, but he could recognise a polite subject change when he saw one. Leaning back with a sigh, he thought for a moment before deciding he could probably do something useful.

"My left leg was always a little stiffer. Knee used to play up. Maybe you could figure out what's wrong with it," he offered and the settled back into an easy discussion about modifications.

 

**_December 23, 2024_ **

“This is bullshit! This is such fucking bullshit and everyone knows it! The program is fucking failing because shitty pilots got given fucking jaegers, not because we ain’t got good bloody machinery!” Chuck shouted, waving his arms in what Striker was relatively sure were symbols that made no sense to anyone but Newt. 

The AI glanced towards the screen, actually more interested in yet another one of Newt’s experiments than his brother as Chuck kept shouting. The kaiju intestines were back on the floor where they weren’t meant to be, Newt nodding whenever Chuck stopped for breath without even looking up from his work. At least he was nodding this time.

“Could you fucking stop groping kaiju innards for ten fucking minutes? We’re fucking getting shut down, you fucking cocksucker,” Chuck growled, crossing to the laptop and tilting the screen up until he could properly glare. “We’re getting shut down.”

“I heard you, I did, but kaiju specimens are extremely rare and I was half way through this when you called.” He glanced up, tossing another handful of slimy flesh away. “I can call you back later.”

Striker glanced between the two of them, as amused as always, before whispering, “We all know he loves kaiju more than you. It’s okay, Charlie. Accept the fact you’re second-best.”

Newt made a protesting noise at the same time Chuck shot him a glare, one of those rare moments the two of them managed to do anything that even resembled agreement. He was on the verge of making a joke about it when everything started to go black and he just managed to see Chuck had flicked off the projector before everything was gone.

“There. That’s fucking better,” he muttered, turning back to Newt. “You know the wall ain’t gonna work. It’s bloody stupid. If they shut down the jaegers we’re all fucking doomed.”

He nodded, pausing in his attempt to free the organ he was interested in, before offering, “You’ll be coming here. I think the mission is still a go. And I got a new plan, I do, and it should work.”

Chuck sighed, sinking into his chair as he dragged a hand through his hair. He knew where this was going. It wasn’t the first conversation they’d had about Newt’s ridiculous plans, his theories about the kaiju and what they could learn from them, and it probably wouldn’t be their last argument about it either.

“Okay, so I’ve told you about the kaiju and how I had a theory about the system of categorisation, but I’ve got it now. I really do. The organs are different. Like, wait, like this.” He reached over, grabbing another disgusting-looking mass and holding it up next to the newly freed organ.

Chuck didn’t even want to try and guess what it was, nodding a little to keep Newt appeased even as his mind wandered back to the updates he wanted to organise for Striker.

“Right! So, they all look different, but I was doing some research, and I noticed a lot of them look similar. Not in ways you’d notice, since you just kill them, but it’s there. And I was thinking, maybe they aren’t that different at all. Sure, one looks like a shark and one looks like a lizard or whatever but they’re organs are really similar in some places. Almost like they’re cloned or something, there’s no way anything like this was grown naturally.” He trailed off, frowning at the screen as he dropped the organs back onto a table. “And I was thinking, since you’ve been so interested in the kaiju lately, you could come down to the lab when you get here and I could show you more. You could help dissect, you are good with your hands.”

“Mm-hmm, sure,” Chuck mumbled, eyes a little unfocused as he tried to picture Striker’s mechanics in his head. “I’ll definitely do that, sounds grouse.”

“Great. And since we’re at it, we’ll just store some of the smaller pieces in our room, so I can keep working if I can’t sleep. I’m sure you won’t mind,” Newt continued, eyes narrowed.

Chuck nodded, still a little caught up in his thoughts, before he registered what he’d just agreed to and snarled, “What?”

Newt rolled his eyes, reaching forward and closing the video without another word. He stared at the black screen for a minute, trying to actually remember what he’d agreed to, before groaning and grabbing his jacket. He still had work to do, no matter what stupid thing his boyfriend had just dragged him into.

 

**_January 2, 2025_ **

Mako glanced up from her latest project as Gipsy appeared in the spare seat she had brought into her quarters for him. She glanced back down to finish soldering the small wires into place before setting the tool down, waiting for him to say something. He always did when he turned up like this.

“Is he really coming back? In just a few hours?” Gipsy didn’t say any name, but she didn’t need him to. There was only two people that made his voice break just from mentioning them, and only one of them could ever come back.

She nodded, carefully packing up her tools as she murmured, “The Marshal has gone to meet him. He will be here tomorrow morning.”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes and favouring twisting his arm to inspect the thick lines of scars. Mako knew not to push too hard when it came to his siblings, especially Raleigh, and quietly went about packing everything away. She could be patient when she had to be. They’d known each other for over a year now, she could let him think.

“I don’t think I should see him right away. I know the Marshall wants to talk to him about everything, and seeing me might just upset him,” he said, voice barely above a mutter as he dropped his damaged arm. “I should have let you repair me properly.”

“You think he will not understand why you have kept them? Of all people in your life, would he not understand most?” she asked, turning to face him again. “He lost a brother too. He will be glad to know you did not leave him.”

“I don’t want to see him right away,” Gipsy said softly, rephrasing his words. “I don’t think I can. I need to know he wants to see me first. Mako, please. Just let me wait until I know he wants to see me.”

She nodded slowly, reaching for her tablet and pulling it close. He sighed in relief, shooting her a bright grin, before leaning forward to try and see what she was working on. Mako shifted her chair a little closer, tilting the screen so they could both see with a fond smile. After a year of being around him, it was hard not to care about him.

“Is that our sword? I get two now?” he asked, tone a lot happier than only a few moments before.

“Correct. It was put in two days ago.” Mako paused, pulling up the main schematic, before saying softly, “The repairs are complete. When your brother finds his co-pilot, you will be ready.”

Gipsy rolled his eyes, resting his chin on his hand as he declared, “I found you for him. Or you found me. Whichever. But I already know his co-pilot is right here.”

“I feel that would be preferable, but it is not our decision,” she reminded, trying not to smile at the determined look in his eyes. “We will need to accept the Marshal’s choice.”

“Tell me more about your project,” he mumbled, changing the subject before he said anything stupid. “What’s this one meant to do?”

She gave him a look, fully aware of what he was doing, but obliged. Once the latest project was set between them and she started explaining, he didn’t seem to be quite as tense about the next day. And, even if he was just an AI, he was some of the best company she had in the dome.


	2. Chapter 2

**_January 3, 2025_ **

The trip from Alaska to Hong Kong had been painfully devoid of anything that could be constituted as an answer and Raleigh was sure any normal person would’ve fallen asleep. By the time they landed, half of his muscles were aching from sitting still for so long and the rest of them were complaining from working on the wall. Hopefully the work of the past five years would make it a little easier to keep up. He barely glanced around as he followed Pentecost out of the chopper, not sure what he’d see but relatively sure most of it wouldn’t concern him. He was only here to pilot.

He noticed a flickering near the woman waiting near the landing pad but it was gone as soon as he focused on it and his attention drifted back to the woman passing the Marshall an umbrella. Something about her seemed vaguely familiar, weak memories pressing at the place where Gipsy used to sit, and he almost missed what Pentecost was saying in his attempt to shove the insistent pressure away.

“Mister. Becket, this is Mako Mori. One of our brightest,” Pentecost explained, drawing Raleigh’s attention for a moment before his gaze returned to the woman. “Also in charge of the Mark III restoration program. She personally hand-picked your co-pilot candidates.”

He inclined his head in a small bow, not surprised or offended when she didn’t return it and instead turned to Pentecost to say in quick Japanese, “ **I imagined him differently**.”

“Hey.  **Better or worse**?” Raleigh asked, relatively sure he should have kept his mouth shut but unable to stop the words escaping. At least neither of them would discuss anything they didn’t want him to hear in Japanese in the future.

Mako glanced away for a second before glancing back at him, clearly a little embarrassed she’d been caught and Raleigh did want to let her off the hook for the entire thing. There was no way she could’ve known. He’d learnt on his own time, just out of curiosity, and it wasn’t on his records. He just noticed the little flicker again, a muffled sound that could be laughter, before Mako smiled a little awkwardly.

“ **I’m sorry, Mister Becket.** ” Her smile faltered a little bit, nervousness clear on her face. “ **I’ve heard a lot about you.** ”

The little strained attempt returned for a second before vanishing again and he couldn’t quite stop the small smile as he looked at her. Hopefully she wouldn’t assume he was mocking her. Raleigh bowed his head again, a little more deeply than the first time, and was glad she returned it. He just hoped neither her nor Pentecost would hold any hard feelings about the entire linguistic confusion. Considering the current situation, the Marshall being irritated with him likely wouldn’t help.

The walk to the building was mercifully short and quiet and although Raleigh had a hundred questions he knew better than to ask anything. Pentecost clearly had something in mind, considering his first move was to introduce him to the person heading the Mark III restoration unit. He’d already had to deal with the lack of answers on the flight and he could cope for a little longer.

“We will tour the facility first and then Miss Mori will show your to your jaeger, Mister Becket,” Pentecost announced as they stepped into the building, either not noticing or not caring that Raleigh’s focus was on the strange organs with small moving parts stored in the green-tinted liquid.

His focus was very quickly drawn away from them when he heard shouting and people rushed into the elevator. He didn’t really get a good look at either of them in the rush, but definitely noticed the limp and walking stick one of them had. Even before Pentecost said anything he was relatively sure they were K-science.

The elevator had started to drop when the shorter man, the one in the leather jacket, announced, “Stay back. Kaiju specimens are extremely rare, so look but don’t touch, please.” Raleigh was a little surprised for a second at just how high his voice got on a couple of words before stepping back, more than happy to move away from the kaiju organs.

“Mister Becket, this is our research team,” Pentecost started, something in his tone indicating he wasn’t overly thrilled about that at times. “Dr Gottlieb and Dr Geiszler.”

“Oh, nah, call me Newt,” the squeaky man announced, glancing up at Raleigh as he continued. “Only my mother calls me doctor.” He grinned at his own joke, shrugging off the leather jacket that looked nothing like what Raleigh expected a doctor to wear. The fact no one else seemed amused was apparently lost on him.

He kept talking, saying something to the other doctor, but Raleigh wasn’t really listening to him. He didn’t want to be rude, but he also wasn’t there to be friendly. He was there to pilot and his focus was mostly on figuring out Pentecost’s plan. It wasn’t his job to talk to K science and he probably wouldn’t have said anything else if he hadn’t noticed the colours on Newt’s arms. Kaiju tattoos on a kaiju scientist. Fitting.

“Who is that” he asked, glancing down at the vaguely familiar face on Newt’s left arm before meeting the high-pitched scientist’s gaze. “Yamarashi?”

“Oh, this little kaiju?” Newt asked, lightly tapping the inked image. “Yeah, you got a good eye.” It almost sounded like he thought it was a compliment.

“My brothers and I took him down in 2017,” Raleigh explained, turning a little more to face him and not noticing the slip. He hadn’t called Gipsy that since Yancy had died and considering he couldn’t see the looks Mako and Pentecost were exchanging, he probably wasn’t going to notice his mistake.

Newt didn’t seem to notice, and if he did he didn’t ask, continuing with, “You know, he was one of the biggest category III’s ever? He was 2,500 tonnes of awesome.”

Mako’s shoulders stiffened slightly as she glanced up at the Marshall, not surprised by the unimpressed look on his face, before risking a glance to Raleigh. The hints of friendliness in his face were petering out, clearly not agreeing with Newt’s words at all. This time the scientist noticed, which Mako couldn’t help but feel was at least a small improvement. He normally didn’t.

The silence started to stretch before Newt amended, “Or awful, y’know, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Please excuse him, he’s a kaiju groupie,” the other scientist, Gottlieb, informed Raleigh. His face was twisted in clear disgust as he spoke, pointing at his teammate like it was actually necessary to indicate who he was talking about. “He loves them.”

“Shut up Hermann, I don’t love them, okay” Newt said, finally glancing away from Raleigh as he corrected his colleague. “I study them. And unlike most people, I want to see one alive and up close one day.”

The elevator came to a halt as he spoke, Pentecost and Mako heading straight for the door as Newt finished his sentence. Raleigh knew he should follow them, maybe figure out what the hell the mysterious and irritatingly familiar flickering to Mako’s left was, but he couldn’t stop himself lingering for just a moment longer. He set his hand on Newt’s skinny shoulder, squeezing lightly to try and make sure he had the man’s attention. It was important to Raleigh he actually listened.

“Trust me, you don’t wanna,” he stated, not interested in hearing what he was sure would be a high-pitched retort, and clapped him lightly on the shoulder before heading out of the elevator. He still had questions, ones he wanted answering.

They were only a bit further down the hall than him and Raleigh couldn’t resist calling out, “So that’s your research team?” He was sure both of them could hear the sarcasm in his tone, but it felt rather justified after that.

“Things have changed,” Pentecost reminded, turning as he approached. “We aren’t an army anymore, Mister Becket. We’re the resistance. Welcome to the Shatterdome.”

The large doors slowly rolled open, revealing the expanse of the jaeger bay and Scramble Alley. There was the hustle of people, just like at the Ice Box, everyone with a job to do and on their way to do it. All the domes looked similar, everything but the people and the jaegers the same. It all looked so familiar, almost like he’d never left, and he felt a hint of warmth in his chest as a small grin crossed his face. It almost felt like home, even without Yancy and Gipsy. Almost.

He turned, hoping to find Mako and Pentecost, but his eyes were drawn to the strange old-fashioned flip clock mounted high on the wall. He’d never seen one of them in a dome before. He would have remembered if he had. It was at least twenty feet across and each of the flipping panels looked as big as a movie poster. He knew it definitely wasn’t the local time, and he couldn’t quite figure out what the point of it was. He was sure it was new, something exclusive to Hong Kong.

“War clock,” Pentecost explained quickly, walking past him with Mako. “We reset it after every kaiju attack. Keeps everyone focused. The frequency of attacks is accelerating.”

Raleigh glanced back at the clock as he followed them, calling, “How long until the next reset?”

He wasn’t quite able to just pull his eyes away from it until he heard the screeching of wheels and a sharp honk, eyes drawn forcibly to the man that had almost just hit him on the caddy. The man driving looked rather unimpressed as he quickly sidestepped, holding up a hand in apology.

“A week, if we’re lucky,” Pentecost said, not pausing to look for him. Considering the fact Raleigh was already jogging to catch up, he really didn’t need to. “My experts believe that there’ll be a kaiju attack even before that. This complex used to lodge thirty jaegers in five bays just like this one. Now we only have four jaegers left.”

Raleigh glanced around at the bay, admitting, “I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“It is that bad,” he said simply. The three of them kept walking, approaching the first jaeger in the bay as Pentecost started to introduce them and Raleigh felt his attention drift. “Crimson Typhoon, China. One of the greatest. Assembled in Changzhou. Full titanium core, no alloys. Fifty diesel engines per muscle strand. Deadly, precise fighter. She’s piloted by the Wei Tang brothers. Triplets. Local lads. They’ve successfully defended Hong Kong port seven times. They use the Thundercloud formation.”

“Hell, yeah. Triple-arm technique,” Raleigh offered, glancing over to near the base of the three-armed jaeger where her pilots were playing basketball.

Pentecost kept walking, settling for, “Very effective.”

The three brothers moved quickly and fluidly, passing the ball without seeming to have to even look for a target as they played. A young woman sat near them, watching them with a fond smile, and for a moment he didn’t realise who it was. Then he saw the metallic-looking third arm, sprouting unnaturally from the back of her right shoulder, and it clicked. She was Crimson. The red outfit with gold detailing on the front probably should have told him that, even without the extra arm. Of course the AI would be near her pilots. That did seem to be the norm.

They kept walking through the expanse, Pentecost gesturing to the next jaeger as he continued, “That tank, last of the T-90s. Cherno Alpha. First generation Mark I. The heaviest and oldest jaeger in the service. But make no mistake, Mister Becket, it’s a brutal war machine. And those two: Sasha and Aleksis Kaidanovsky.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of them.” They paused, watching the Russian contingent enter with Cherno being brought in behind them. “Perimeter patrol, Siberian wall.”

“On their watch it stayed unbreached for six years,” Pentecost confirmed. “Six years.”

Raleigh’s gaze didn’t leave the group, the three blondes in matching armour keeping his focus as they walked in. He’d heard of them, seen them in the news. Cherno was one of the earliest AIs ever and most people put her resemblance to her pilots down to old algorithms. He’d never been so sure. The jaeger’s body was clearly older than any of the other jaegers in the hanger, design alone indicating that, but the AI looked like a woman in her twenties. A little shorter than Sasha, she didn’t have any distinguishing features like Crimson’s arm that made it clear she was a jaeger. Gipsy hadn’t had any of them either. It was a choice each AI made, Raleigh had heard.

By the time they’d made it to the Australian jaeger, Raleigh was starting to get a little tired of all the explanations. He’d heard of the jaegers before. He hadn’t known all the details, but he’d known most of them, and nothing he’d heard since he arrived here had answered any of his questions. He wanted to know why he was there, not about engines or muscle strands.

He heard the barking around the same time he spotted the two pilots, recognising them from the news program hours ago. Chuck and Herc. He didn’t spot their AI at first, almost mistaking him for just another mechanic, when he heard an irritated curse from the younger Hansen and briefly caught a flash of green. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to tell the man had definitely not been a mechanic as he fizzled out of view. The stockier one, who he’d already mentally dubbed pretty damn arrogant, was still in his drive suit despite the fourteen hours it had been since the Sydney attack. Raleigh couldn’t really say he understood that in the least. He wasn’t really paying attention to much besides the pair until he heard Mako’s voice, something he hadn’t expected to hear for the rest of the day at least. She’d been silent the whole tour.

“Max! Come here!” she called, crouching down as Herc released the bulldog’s leash. “Remember me?”

“Don’t drool over Miss Mori,” Herc scolded, following his dog over to the group. “Sees a pretty girl and he gets all wound up.”

“Raleigh, this is Hercules Hansen, an old friend from the Mark I glory days,” Pentecost said, the same way he’d introduced everyone else, although this introduction was definitely not necessary.

Herc glanced down, reaching for Raleigh’s hand for a quick shake, as he said, “I know you, mate. We rode together before.”

“We did, sir,” he settled for, swallowing back the more sarcastic comments he could have made. “Six years ago. My brother and I. It was a three jaeger team drop.”

“That’s right. Manila. I’m sorry about your brother,” he said, sounding sincere enough that Raleigh didn’t have it in him to be irritated about the words like he sometimes was.

He nodded a little, trying to keep any hints of bitterness off his face as he said, “Thank you, sir.”

Pentecost seemed to feel that was enough socialising, interjecting, “Herc and his son Chuck’ll be running point using Striker Eureka. Fastest jaeger in the world. First and last of the Mark V’s. Australia decommissioned it a day before the Sydney attack.”

“Yeah, it was lucky we were still around,” Herc added, glancing over at Raleigh before looking back up at his battered jaeger.

“Yep. Now it’s running point for us,” Pentecost finished explaining, if that term could even be used considering how little he’d actually said about what was happening.

Raleigh looked over, a little irritated, as he asked, “Wait, running point on what? You haven’t told me what I’m doing here yet.

Pentecost looked down at the gloves he’d been carrying briefly before answering, “We’re going for the Breach, Mister Becket. We’re gonna strap a 2400 pound thermonuclear warhead to Striker’s back. Detonate the equivalents on 1.2 million tons of TNT. And you and two other jaegers will be running defence for them.”

He hadn’t been able to keep the confusion or surprise off his face as he listened, pretty sure they’d tried stuff like this before, back when they were still an army. The breach had always survived.

“Thought we were the resistance.” Raleigh spared a glance for Herc before refocusing his attention on the Marshal. He was finally getting some answers and he wasn’t going to drop it right away. “Where’d you get something that big?”

“See the Russians back there? They can get us anything,” Pentecost said, not going into detail he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know anyway. “Shall we, Herc?”

The dismissal was plain, just like always, and Raleigh took half a step back as Herc nodded and quickly said, “Good to have you back.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said, already back on the routine he’d abandoned when he left the Ice Box.

Mako, who had been silent since she’d greeted Max, informed him, “I’ll show you to your jaeger now.”

“Miss Mori,” he interrupted, reaching over to gently touch her arm. “Will you give me a minute?”

Raleigh didn’t give her a chance to respond, jogging after the two pilots who had just left as he called, “Marshal!” He knew a dismissal when he saw one, but he had a lot of questions that he still needed to get answered.

“Sir, we’ve hit the breach before,” he said quickly when he reached them, glad they’d actually stopped long enough for him to get his questions out. “It doesn’t work. Nothing goes through. What’s changed?”

“I’ve got a plan. I need you ready. That’s all,” Pentecost said simply, tone not brooking any argument. “Let’s go, Herc.”

The increasingly irritated thoughts were interrupted by another accented voice calling out, “Max, come here!”

Raleigh turned just in time to see the bulldog trot back to who he assumed was his owner, stump of a tail wagging slightly as he panted. It would’ve been cute if it hadn’t been for the blatantly unimpressed look from his owner, saying plenty about what Chuck thought of him already. Raleigh started to walk back to Mako, about to look away when he saw the man from before fizzle back into existence. He didn’t understand where the green had come from earlier at first, almost frowning as he tried to think, before he noticed two grey wings with mottled green patches tucked tight against the hologram’s back.

Striker Eureka. Angel wings. He was relatively sure there was some sort of joke in there, considering Chuck’s temperament.

 

The lab was the same contradiction it always was, Hermann’s side neat and organised and Newt’s a barely contained mess of kaiju parts. Their AI was there too, hovering near the massive blackboards as Hermann wrote up more figures and numbers. She didn’t seem to be doing much of anything but Herc couldn’t say for sure what she was even meant to do. It had always been a little vague on what the K-Science AI did. All he knew for sure was Hermann and Newt were the only scientists that had one.

“In the beginning, the kaiju attacks were spaced by twenty-four weeks,” Hermann said quickly, starting to make his way down the ladder. “Then twelve, then six, then every two weeks. The last attack in Sydney was a week.” He rapped the rubber end of his cane against the board, trying to draw their focus to a specific part of the equation Herc could only hope they weren’t expected to understand. “In four days we could be seeing a kaiju every eight hours until they are coming every four minutes. Marshal, we should witness a double event within seven days.”

“Mr Gottlieb, I’m to drop a 2400 pound thermonuclear bomb, I need more than a prediction,” Pentecost said, glancing at the blackboards before back to the scientist.

Newt glanced up from his work, blatantly ignoring the warning look from the AI, and said, “Well, uh, that’s a problem then because see, he actually can’t give you anything more than a prediction.”

“Geiszler!” the AI snapped, the first word she’d spoken since they’d entered the room, as the scientist threw a handful of intestines towards one of the metal tables. “Your theories are even less sound.”

“No kaiju entrails over my side of the room. You know the rules,” Hermann warned, crossing the short distance and kicking the slimy flesh back over the tape. “Every bloody day. It’s incessant.”

“Gents! On point,” Herc commanded, feeling the beginning of yet another migraine.

Hermann straightened, grip tightening on his cane. “Numbers do not lie. Politics and poetry, promises, these are lies. Numbers are as close as we get to the handwriting of God.”

Newt sniggered, wiping some sort of fluid off his hands and onto a tray as he asked, “What?”

He didn’t even turn fully to look at the other scientist, snapping, “Would you give me a moment?”

“Geiszler, let him talk. He actually has a point,” the AI warned, fiddling with one of the holographic screens for a moment before crossing the room. “You have dissections to complete.”

Hermann turned back to the two visitors, continuing to talk about his predictions. “There will be a double event. And then, shortly thereafter, three. And then four—”

“And then we’re dead,” Pentecost interrupted. “I get it.”

“Alas. This is where the good news comes.” He crossed to his computer, waking it up and starting to explain. “This is our universe and here is theirs. And this is what we call the throat, the passage between the breach and us. We know that it’s atomic in nature. I predict that the increased traffic will force the breach to stabilise and remain open long enough to get the device through and collapse its structure.”

“And that’s where I gotta chime in—” Newt started but was quickly interrupted by the AI next to him.

“No you don’t,” she muttered, giving him a warning glare.

He shot her an annoyed look. “Shut up. Really, I mean, I wouldn’t want to go in there with that limited amount of information.”

“Newton, don’t embarrass yourself,” Hermann said, standing again and grabbing his cane.

He waved his hands a little as he spoke, quickly requesting, “Just hear me out for a second. Give me a second, please.”

Judging by the look his AI had, Herc wasn’t sure whatever Newt wanted to say was worth even a second but he followed Pentecost over to the other side of the room. It was just as chaotic as he remembered, organs scattered over the tables and on the floor, and he already had a bad feeling about this theory.

Newt quickly adopted the tone of a lecturer, albeit one Herc couldn’t take seriously. “Why do we judge the kaiju on a category system? It’s because each one is completely different from the next, right? You see what I’m saying? Like, one looks like a shark and one looks like a fish—”

“Dr Geiszler. Get to the point,” Pentecost said, expression distinctly tired.

“The point is, I don’t think they’re completely different after all.” Herc briefly noticed the fact the AI was very obviously rolling her eyes before Newt was gesturing them over to one of the collections of organs. “These are some samples I’ve collected. Now, this one here was harvested in Sydney. And this was harvested in Manila. Six years ago. They have the same exact DNA. They’re clones.”

“And this is the point where he goes completely crazy,” Hermann interjected, leaning up a little to give Newt a look.

The AI scoffed, gesturing vaguely to the mess of organs as she said, “He’s always been completely crazy.”

“Shut up, Hypatia.” Newt crossed to the container housing a chunk of an organ, clearly planning on continuing to talk no matter what his colleagues said. “There’s so much more to the kaiju than we understand. And we’ve really only scratched the surface. This is a piece of a kaiju’s brain. Now, unfortunately, it’s damaged. It’s a little bit weak. But it’s still alive. Now, I think I can tap into it using the same technology that allows the two jaeger pilots to share a neural bridge. I even have an AI that has the right protocols to buffer the information. Now, think about that. I could tell you exactly how to get through the breach yourselves.”

“You’re suggesting that we initiate a drift with a kaiju?” Herc asked, suddenly understanding all the irritated looks the AI had been giving the scientist. No wonder she was annoyed.

Newt shook his head, stepping a little closer as he reassured, “No, no. No, no. Not like a whole kaiju, you know, just a tiny piece of its brain.”

The normal headache he got whenever he had to deal with his son’s boyfriend was back in full force as he tersely explained, “The neural surge would be too much for the human brain.”

“I agree,” Pentecost said simply, glancing at Herc for a moment before returning his attention to the scientists.

“I don’t agree,” Newt protested, giving Herc a look that he was pretty sure implied he was meant to be siding with him.

Pentecost didn’t look impressed, saying, “Gottlieb, I’d like your data on my desk ASAP.”

“Sir.” Hermann saluted, not noticing the amused grin from his AI.

Newt glanced over at the other scientist, quickly arguing, “No, but his is so—”

“Thank you, Newt,” Pentecost said, cutting him off and turning to go.

Herc lingered for a second longer, gruffly ordering, “Don’t you fucking dare, Geiszler,” before following Pentecost towards the door.

“Guys, now this is the most amazing thing—” he started, still trying to convince them that his idea was sound.

Hermann took a step forward, pausing next to his colleague to say, “Newton, I know that you’re desperate to be right so you’ve not wasted your life being a kaiju groupie but it’s not going to work,” before heading back to his side of the lab.

“It is going to work, Hermann. And I’ll tell you something else,” Newt retaliated. “Fortune favours the brave, dude.”

“You heard them. They won’t give you the equipment and even if they did you’d kill yourself,” he snapped, stalking back to his side of the lab.

“Or I’d be a rock star!” he called, spreading his arms with a small grin.

Hypatia scoffed, finally reacting after so long trying to ignore him, and sniped, “You need an AI and you don’t have one. You’re the only one here who wants a kaiju in their mind, Geiszler, so not only are you lacking equipment, you’re lacking a buffer system.”

“You have to help me. It’s your entire purpose!” Newt protested, watching her follow Hermann. “You’re meant to help with experiments, not just listen to numbers.”

She turned, calling back, “I help with sanctioned experiments, Geiszler,” before flickering out and reappearing near the blackboards.

That made his plans a lot more difficult, but he was sure he could manage. He was a rock star, after all.

 

The music was loud, even for him, and he took a second to try and adjust to it as Max slobbered at his feet. His wings twitched nervously, all of their own accord, before he forced them to melt back into his back where they were meant to be. Out of the fucking way so he could at least pretend to be normal.

He probably didn’t have long to do this. Herc wasn’t as much of a dick as people assumed he was, but he had rules. Wandering off without talking was one of them, and it went for Striker and Chuck. He was almost certainly wasting his time trying to visit her anyway.

“He is handsome canine,” he heard, head snapping up to meet the gaze of the other AI. “Did wander on own or did you bring him?”

Cherno sounded nothing like what he’d expected, voice warmer and more curious than he’d ever guessed. She had the same accent as her pilots, not that he was surprised, and she was one of the AIs who just looked human. The ones not like him or Crimson. He couldn’t quite help the nervous smile that crossed his face as she tilted her head, blonde hair falling across her face and clearly waiting for an answer.

“I take him for walks. Stick the projector into his collar and I can go where he does,” Striker said, shrugging. “Pup musta been interested in your music, I guess. He’s a curious bludger, lotta the time.”

Her smile turned a little more shark-like, more like Sasha’s, as she said, “Hmm. Not what I would think. Heard talk before. You interested in meeting, yes?”

He sighed, glancing down at panting dog as he admitted, “I wanted to say I respect you. Even if my pilots don’t, I do. You did bloody brilliant, the three of you. You’re the only Mark I still in service, and all. Feel that says fucking plenty about how good you are.”

She looked a little bemused, like she hadn’t expected anything that even resembled a compliment. Striker wasn’t surprised. He was a Hansen, after all, and they weren’t known for their pleasantries. Saying things like that wasn’t even close to the norm for them but the end of the world wasn’t the norm either. He could make an exception if he was going to die anyway.

“You are like puppy. Grumpy pup, yes? Growl and bark at all, but softer than you seem,” Cherno mused, little half-smile back. “Strange little pup.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m a puppy,” he protested, frowning. “Max is a dog. We’re artificial intelligence systems created to aid in piloting giant robots that punch giant aliens in the fucking face.”

She chuckled, beckoning him closer with a hand practically shimmering with gold rings, and he almost resisted purely because he didn’t like being told where he had to be by anyone. But then she gave him a small smile, repeating the gesture, and he reluctantly stepped a little closer.

"No. You are pup. Grumpy pup. But clever. Fast,” she informed him quietly, the words of praise meaning more to him than he wanted to admit. “You will finish mission well. Get pilots home."

He didn’t get a chance to reply before she turned and walked back to her pilots, smile only widening as she settled next to Sasha. He started to go, not interested in being snapped at by either of the Russians, when he just caught a few murmured words. His processors clicked in, translating the foreign language without conscious thought, and he winced slightly as they registered.

“ **Don’t worry, mother. He’ll finish the job.** ”

He wandered back to his pilots, letting Herc pluck the projector out of Max’s collar in silence as he tried to rewrite his plan. Cherno. He couldn’t let her lose her pilots. He couldn’t let them those their daughter.

“Striker. You alright?” Herc asked, hooking Max’s leash back onto his collar. “You got that goddamn worrying look again. Last time you had that look, the entire dome hadta deal with Back in Black at five am for a week.”

 He smiled a little at the memory, sitting down next to Herc as he answered, “Got no plans for nothing like that. Jus’ thinking about the mission. Talked to Cherno.”

“What, finally got over your crush enough to talk to the bint?” Chuck drawled, wandering over to the pair of them and taking the leash from his father. “What a fucking achievement. How about you go play nice with Becket now? Seems you sure like him too.”

Striker rolled his eyes, wings flickering back into view as he sniped, "Oi, you little prick. Just because you used to whack off to him and you’re all grumpy don’t mean you can be a shite to him. Especially considering your fucking life now."

"Striker, shut up,” he said bitterly, crouching down to fuss over Max as Herc shook his head.

"As your jaeger, and a bloke who has to share headspace with you, I think not."

Herc stood with a tired sigh, one Striker was far too used to hearing from his father, before heading over towards the jaeger mechanics. Which was sort of irritating, for the youngest Hansen, since he hadn’t had the chance to start asking about Cherno yet. 

Chuck retaliated, "Go drool over Cherno,” which was undoubtedly the closest thing to a witty comment he had in store today.

Striker chuckled, shaking his head as he said dryly, "I don’t drool. I can appreciate that lot are goddamn talented. And admit it.”

"Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, eyes narrowing as his grip on Max’s leash tightened.

He offered a mock-polite grin as he continued, "Unlike you."

"Cunt,” Chuck spat, tugging a little harshly on Max’s lead as he walked off. “C’mon, Max.”

“Play nice with the other kids!” Striker called before vanishing, determined to at least talk to Herc about the odds of getting Cherno out alive. Knowing them already didn’t quite make the hope die.

Herc didn’t even jump when he appeared next to him, glancing up with a sigh as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Judging by the look in his eyes, he was already aware he wasn’t going to be overly interested in this conversation. He couldn’t say he was exactly surprised.

“Daaaaad,” he whined as Herc turned to go, following him with a grumble. “We need ta talk about Pitfall, seriously. How the hell do you expect us to pull it off?”

“Stop calling me that,” he said, the exact same way he always said it, and Striker couldn’t help his small grin. Even in the apocalypse some things never changed. It was comforting. “It’ll pan out. We’ll get the job done, same way we always have.”

He rolled his eyes, asking, “What if it doesn’t? Don’t tell me you ain’t thought about it, I live in that skull. I know you have.”

“We’ll do what we need to, as long as the breach is dealt with.” He didn’t sound as convinced as Striker really would’ve hoped, but nothing could be done about that. They just had to do the mission. He could ask about Cherno later.

“Did you bring Lucky?” he ventured, wings flicking pointlessly and barely trying to keep up with his pilot now. “I wanna see her again. Before the drop.”

“You know why we couldn’t do that. If I get hurt too bad on this, they aren’t gonna keep her awake. We aren’t permitted to take her off base anyway. She’s inactive,” Herc sighed, reaching his temporary room and unlocking the door.

Striker followed him inside, immediately crossing to the desk and settling down on the chair. Herc just rolled his eyes, almost fondly, and tossed his bag towards the bed. It was almost like everything was fine, like there wasn’t a suicide run in mere days.

“We should skype her. Say goodbye, jus’ in case,” he muttered, only just loud enough for his father to hear. His wings shifted on their own again, wrapping around his body protectively as his worry grew. He didn’t want to risk the backlash, but he couldn’t bring himself to stay quiet. It was Lucky. His aunt. He had to say goodbye. “Emelia would answer, you know that. She practically helped raise Charlie, I saw it. She’d do anything for him.”

The hint of fondness Striker had spent years learning how to spot vanished as Herc pointed out, “She did that because of Scott, you know that. They were closer than anyone in that damn place. We ain’t putting this on her. Lucky don’t trust her anyway. It won’t work.”

“We can try and organise this or I’ll start asking questions about that look you gave Raleigh. Is that what happened in Manila? Cause if that’s the bloody case, I’m fucking thankful that you blocked it out in the drift cause neither me and Charlie wanna see that kinda bullshit,” Striker drawled, completely expecting glare he got but regretting nothing. There was always some sort of way to make his point.

 

Mako had been quiet again for most of the walk, not that Raleigh was going to complain. It gave him time to sort out his thoughts. That was definitely something he needed, especially with most of the answers he hadn’t gotten keeping just enough of the puzzle pieces out of his reach. There was something he was missing, he knew there was, but he couldn’t make it out. He wasn’t even sure if he was getting Gipsy back in the same state he used to be or at all.

“There he is,” Mako informed him, gesturing up to the rebuilt jaeger before letting him step past.

He couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped or the awed expression as he crossed to the edge of the platform, staring up past the sparks to his brother. Raleigh was so caught up in the moment he didn’t hear Mako’s quiet murmur or notice the flickering by her left side was back, and stronger than ever.

He hadn’t even been sure he’d be getting him back, let alone in pristine condition. It was more than he ever could have hoped for. He still didn’t know where the hologram was, where his brother’s other form was, but that didn’t stop the warmth exploding in his chest. He was getting Gipsy back after five years. He was getting his little brother back.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, reaching the railing and gripping it tightly. “Look at him. Gipsy. God, it’s so beautiful. He looks like new.”

He didn’t even realise Mako had moved to stand next to him until she corrected, “Better than new. He has a double-core nuclear reactor. He’s one of a kind now.”

Raleigh shot her a glance, noticing the hints of a proud smile on her face, as he said, “He always was.”

Mako wasn’t surprised by the words, reaching down to activate Gipsy’s projection no matter how much he had wanted  to wait until Raleigh had asked for him, when she heard Tendo. With a soft sigh, she pulled her hand away from the button, waiting for Raleigh near the railing.

“Solid iron hull, no alloys. Forty engine blocks per muscle strand. Hyper-torque driver for every limb and a new fluid synapse system,” Tendo announced as he crossed to them, grinning a little as Raleigh dropped his bag. “Come here.”

He reached forward, wrapping his old friend in a tight hug with a bright grin as he said, “Tendo. It’s good to see you, buddy.”

“It’s good to see you too, brother,” Tendo agreed, clapping his shoulder. “It’s just like old times.”

His smile wavered a little but he nodded, stepping back a little further. There was a hint of colour next to her, drawing her attention away from her tablet, and that decided it for her. He wanted to see Raleigh. Mako adjusted her grip on her tablet before reaching for the button again, quickly activating Gipsy’s projection and clearing her throat.

“Mister Becket? There is someone who wants to see you,” she said, looking back down at her tablet as Gipsy made a vaguely panicked sound. “I will meet you in LOCCENT when you are ready.”

Raleigh didn’t seem to notice Mako shifting away, crossing back to the railing where his little brother stood with what had to be the most uncertain expression he’d ever seen. He never looked like that, not even when Yancy had gotten mad once or twice.

“You left me behind,” he said, trying to keep his voice even as Raleigh leaned against the railing again, staring out at the jaeger. “You left me and Tendo behind. No note, sweaters gone. You could have gotten yourself killed.”

“I missed you too, Gips,” he murmured, not for the first time wishing Gipsy wasn’t just a hologram. It would be so nice to actually be able to hug his brother. “Both of you. We have a little bit until Mako needs us. How about you two tell me what I missed?”

He made a small face at him before glancing over at Tendo, shooting him a wan grin as he asked, “You have the baby photos with you? As usual?”

Raleigh frowned a little, confused and distracted by the thick lines marring Gipsy’s image, before Tendo shoved a handful of photos in his face, grinning proudly as he rambled. It wasn’t a perfect reunion, not even close, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been.

 

By the time Raleigh was led to his new room, Gipsy bounding along next to him with a small grin as he set his bag on the small dresser, he was starting to get quite curious. Mako clearly knew plenty about the improvements done to Gipsy and she was saddled with guiding him around. If the few words of praise he’d heard from his brother were accurate, she had had input into almost every repair that was done and she was stuck as a tour guide.

“So, what’s your story?” He started digging in his bag, hearing Mako’s footsteps. “Restoring old jaegers, showing has-beens like me around. That can’t be it.” He heard Gipsy’s disapproving sound but ignored it, turning to face her with a grin as he pulled the rubber band off the stack of photos. “You a pilot?”

“No. Not yet.” She shook her head a little, hugging the tablet a little closer with a small smile. “But I wanna be, more than anything.”

He nodded a little, asking, “What’s your simulator score?”

“Fifty-one drops, fifty-one kills,” she answered, giving him the same smile she had given his brother when they’d had this conversation, a slight nod accompanying her words.

“Wow, that’s amazing.” Raleigh stood straight, stepping a little closer as he fiddled with the photos. “But you’re not one of the candidates tomorrow?”

Her smile was a little more forced as she answered, “I am not. The marshal has his reasons.”

“Yeah, he always does, doesn’t he?” he asked, looking down before glancing back up to meet her eyes. “But with fifty-one kills, I can’t imagine what they could be.”

Mako glanced away, meeting Gipsy’s eyes briefly and seeing the sentiment reflected there, before smoothly changing the subject and offering, “I hope you approve of my choices. I’ve studied your fighting techniques and strategy. Even Alaska.”

Raleigh nodded in understanding, asking, “And what do you think?”

She took a deep breath, shoulders slumping a little as she answered, “I think you’re unpredictable. You have a habit of deviating from standard combat techniques. You take risks that endanger yourself and your crew. I don’t think you’re the right man for this mission.”

He glanced down, idly fiddling with the photos in his hands, as he tried to think of how to respond to that. He wasn’t overly surprised, in reality, but he still didn’t want to hear it. Just managing to pick up on Gipsy’s quiet mutter of “Oooh, burn,” didn’t make him feel any better. Whoever taught his brother about phrases like that had to be one of the most irritating people to ever affect his life.

“Wow.” He swallowed before looking back up at Mako. “Thank you for your honesty. You might be right. But one day, when you’re a pilot, you’re gonna see that in combat you make decisions. And you have to live with the consequences.”

He couldn’t bear to look at the photo of him and Yancy anymore, shifting it to the bottom of the pile and stepping back a little, explaining, “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

Mako left with only a quiet goodbye, leaving Raleigh with Gipsy and his thoughts.

“Burn? Really?” he asked, turning to give his brother an irritated look as he pulled off his dirty sweater. “You haven’t grown out of that yet?”

He shrugged, side-stepping the tossed sweater neatly as he said cheerily, “Nah. I like saying stuff like that, especially when it annoys you. And it was a burn.”

Raleigh rolled his eyes, grabbing a towel to wipe his face as he crossed back towards the door, already a little irritated with his brother and more than interested in trying to get into clean clothes than argue about the appropriate times to use ninety percent of Gipsy’s vocabulary. It was probably still a hopeless battle.

He felt eyes on him, pulling the towel down a little to glance towards the door he’d forgotten was open. Mako was standing there, watching him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher, before she scrambled over and quickly pushed her door shut. Raleigh wasn’t sure what the whole thing had been about but settled for crossing the room to close his door, turning back to his brother at the badly stifled laugh.

“You can’t even go one day in the dome without flashing people,” Gipsy sniggered, covering his face with his hands. “It’s been two hours, at most, and you’ve already flashed someone.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, throwing the towel at him as well before crossing to the desk and digging through his bag.

 

"I think he just gave Becket your food."

Chuck's attention jerked away from Max faster than Striker once thought possible, head snapping up and already glaring. It would've been comical if it wasn't for the murderous look in his eyes. It still was almost comical.

"Hey, it's alright. We'll bugger off and get you something in a tick," Striker offered, curling a wing a little around his pilot. He just hoped the words would stop Chuck from attempting murder. "Just say hello, make your excuses and we'll get outta here. Or you can go, I'll cover for you again."

"Why the fuck is the old man bringing that cunt over here?" he muttered, fussing with Max's collar as he tried to ignore the approaching group. "And is that meant to pass for an AI?"

Striker felt the relatively normal urge to smack his pilot, settling for drawing his wings back as his eyes skimmed Gipsy with interest. The sharply defined lines crossing his chest and arm were hard to ignore, his own holographic body flickering slightly in sympathy. He'd never met someone who'd lost a pilot before, not like that. Curious was an understatement.

"Christ, drool less, you drongo," Chuck muttered, sparing Striker an irritated look before falling silent as Herc and Raleigh, Gipsy loping behind them, reached the table. There were small mercies in the world and that, in Striker's opinion, was definitely one of them.

He vaguely registered Herc was discussing rationing, half of his focus fixed firmly on his irritable pilot and half on the other AI. Judging by the half-formed wave of irritation from Herc, he wasn’t quite as subtle as he wanted to be.

He only started to focus on the conversation when he felt Chuck’s interest sharpen, just catching the words, “This is my son, Chuck. He’s my co-pilot now.”

“He’s more my co-pilot,” Chuck corrected and with one sentence all Striker’s hopes for a civil conversation were dashed. He knew that tone. “Right dad?”

Judging by the look on Herc’s face, he knew this wasn’t going to end well either and Striker sighed. All he’d wanted was to actually have a chance to meet the pair of them, not play referee for another one of the many arguments Chuck started. His pilot really had a knack for that.

“So, you’re the guy, eh? You’re the guy that’s gonna run defence for me in that old rust-bucket of yours?” Chuck asked, tone bordering on what was civil for him but words telling a very different story.

Raleigh, thankfully, didn’t react as badly as Striker expected and simply said, “That’s the plan.”

“Good. So, when’s the last time you jockeyed, Ray?” Chuck glanced up from the dish he was feeding Max from, acting like he hadn’t been forced to deal with his brother crying the day Gipsy was torn apart.

“You already know that,” Striker hissed, barely loud enough for Chuck to hear as Raleigh answered, “About five years ago.”

“What’ve you been doing for five years?” Chuck didn’t seem to notice the small glare from Gipsy, and he probably wouldn’t have paid it any mind if he had. “Must’ve been pretty important, I reckon.”

Raleigh shifted a little, clearly not pleased with the way the conversation was going, before answering, “I was in construction.”

“Oh, wow, that’s great. I mean, that’s really useful.” He nodded, words bordering on sincere for a second before the sarcasm seeped back in. “We get into a fight, you can build our way out of it, eh, Ray?”

“It’s Raleigh,” he corrected tersely, focus firmly on Chuck and not in a positive way.

Chuck didn’t even seem to care, retaliating, “Whatever.”

Gipsy’s glare intensified, a lot more open in his irritation than his pilot, as he said tersely, “If you don’t care what his name is you don’t need to be a dick about it.”

He shot the AI an unimpressed look before returning his focus to Raleigh, saying, “Look, you two are Pentecost’s bright idea. And my old man, he seems to like you. But its guys like you that brought down the jaeger program. To me, you’re dead weight.” He stood, still focused on Raleigh. “You slow me down, I’m gonna drop you like a sack of kaiju shit.”

And with a parting comment and a truly stupid gesture Chuck was leaving, Max trotting along loyally beside him. Striker sometimes envied the dog. It would probably make a lot of things a lot easier if he wasn’t aware his brother was a total dickhead.

“You can blame me for that one,” Herc said, glancing over at Striker at the disapproving sound. “I’ve raised him on my own. He’s a smart kid, but I never knew whether to give him a hug or a kick in the ass.”

Raleigh raised his eyebrows before shaking his head slightly, replying, “With respect, sir, I’m pretty sure which one he needs.”

"With all due respect, mate, you’ve met him once and you don’t know nothing about him." Striker could feel the weight of Herc’s irritated gaze on him, the same look he always got when he tried to stick up for Chuck. He couldn’t always stop himself from at least trying. It was his brother, after all. Even if he was a dickhead, he was his brother. "I ain’t saying he’s perfect. Or socialised. Or anything remotely close to good. But it’s been one bloody day. If he fucks up again, by all means, kick his ass. I’ll fucking cheer you on if you do, trust me. Just wait until he really deserves it, yeah?"

There was a strained silence for a moment before Gipsy said conversationally, “So, your pilot’s a dick. Hope you aren’t as bad.”

“Gipsy, that’s not helping,” Raleigh stabbed a little more aggressively at his spaghetti than was really necessary. “Maybe we should drop it.”

“You come over here and tell me about the repairs, I won’t mention him for the rest of lunch,” Striker offered, shooting the other AI an almost-charming grin. “Did Mori replace the core or nah? Heard they were thinking of it, radiation risks and all.”

Gipsy was mercifully distracted until Raleigh left the mess hall, shooting a final glance over his shoulder at Striker before looking at his pilot with a wide grin. Raleigh knew that grin. He might’ve smiled back, despite knowing exactly where this was going, if that grin hadn’t been intrinsically Yancy’s.  Instead he shot him a warning look, ignoring the pang in his chest as the grin only grew.

“So, you still like Hansen,” he said, phrasing it like it was a statement of fact. “I thought you would’ve grown out of that by now. Didn’t you have a thing with him in Manila?”

Raleigh groaned, glancing away as he retaliated, “What about you and Striker?”

Gipsy rolled his eyes, flickering out and reappearing in front of his brother with a knowing look. Raleigh almost walked right through him, but the projection flickered out again and reappeared a few steps in front of him, effectively keeping him stuck in the conversation.

“I’m an artificial intelligence program. I can’t actually run around dating, Rals.” He started to walk backwards, giving his brother a serious look. “You fell over yourself to look professional in Manila and got drunken groping against a window that he denied later. I don’t think professional is going to get you the dick.”

“I don’t want the dick,” Raleigh hissed, shooting Gipsy a glare. “We haven’t drifted in five years, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughed, shaking his head stubbornly before declaring, “You like him. Rals, you’re allowed to try and be happy, even if it’s with an Australian. And, hey, if some of those rumours from Manila are true, you wouldn’t exactly--”

Raleigh groaned, swatting his hand through Gipsy’s projection. He noticed the hurt look when he rematerialized, voice petering out, and it took a second to remember how much he hated that. He was only seconds away from apologising when he started talking again.

“I still think you should tell him that it’s more than just Manila,” Gipsy said, tone earnest and hopeful. “Even if it doesn’t work out, at least you’d know. And if it does work out, you might be happy. If we don’t die, and everything.”

He sighed, shaking his head as he walked past his little brother. Judging by the irritated groan from Gipsy, he wasn’t exactly thrilled with the conversation being over but he didn’t say anything else. That was a relief. The last thing Raleigh needed was an argument about Herc Hansen’s dick.

 

Herc paused in the doorway, barely paying attention to the fact Striker had managed to take up ninety percent of the floor space and he wasn’t even solid. He was used to that. He was also used to Chuck complaining about it and accidentally dropping as many things as he could right on Striker’s face.

“He’s off with the noot noot,” Striker explained without looking up, assuming it was his father. “He had to wait until no one knew he was going, of course, because no one can ever know they’re dating even if it is bloody obvious.”

He sighed, pushing the door closed, and headed across the room to the desk. It had gotten to the point where he didn’t ask why Striker had a ridiculous amount of strange nicknames for Chuck’s boyfriend or why he was the only one in the PPDC who had gotten any. It was far easier to just accept it than ask questions.

“Why aren’t you off bothering Raaahhhleigh?” he drawled, the imitation of his brother a lot better than he probably realised. “I mean, he’s the new pilot. Surely it’s your job to bother him. Show him around, try and relive Manila—wait, no. That’s more pleasure than business.”

Herc didn’t look up from the report he was skimming, tersely saying, “I don’t know what memories you’ve been digging in, but you got it wrong. Nothing happened in Manila.”

“The fact you’re defensive makes me think something did, so I’m gonna mock you about it for the next coupla decades.” He paused, thinking it over, before conceding, “Or at least until Pitfall kills me.”

Herc sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly, as he tried to think of some way to get his AI to drop the subject. “Do you wanna call Lucks or not?”

Striker perked up immediately, sitting up and nodding quickly. In some ways, he was the most predictable person he’d ever known. He was never quite able to tell if that was because they shared a brain or not.

“You’re only gonna get a few minutes.” He hadn’t planned to let this happen, simply because of Striker’s habit of getting distracted, but maybe it was for the best. Lucky hadn’t gone this long without seeing him for a long time. “And when it cuts out, that’s it. Ain’t getting another shot, yeah?”

He nodded again, shifting over to the desk and leaning up to peer intently at the tablet as he waited for his aunt to appear. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was only five years old, considering he rarely acted like it, but when it came to Lucky it was impossible to ignore. She was like a big sister to him, even though they both considered her an aunt. She was like a sister, and he certainly acted like a little brother around her.

It took a few minutes for the call to go through, those few minutes turning Striker’s excited expression into something more closely resembling irritation. Herc wasn’t surprised. When it came to getting to Lucky, there was no such thing as patience. He wanted to see her the second he thought about visiting, no exceptions.

“Lucky!” he crowed the second the image appeared, eyes bright as he leaned in closer to the small screen. “Can you see me? Are you okay? I miss you. I miss you lots. We should watch Thor again when I get back. Does that sound good? I think it sounds good.”

It was probably a good thing he didn’t need to breathe.

Her smile was a little more reserved than his, but just as fond as she asked, “When are you coming back? We’ve got so much we were gonna do. Emelia finally got the Captain America copy.”

“That’s been out for eleven years.” He chuckled, reaching up to mimic touching the screen. The closest he could come to reaching for her. “But yeah. We’ll definitely watch that when I get back. Me and you and Charlie, we’ll watch that and we can mock him for not knowing anything.”

“He doesn’t even know who Romanoff is. We won’t get to see any of the movie if we mock him about everything.” Her smile grew a little, still not quite as wide as it was before Scott had left, but it was getting there. It was a good day for her. Most days she got to see Striker were good days. “We would miss the soldier if we did that.”

“More reason to watch it again, Lucks,” Striker pointed out. His grin grew at her quiet laugh before abruptly vanishing. “You know I love you, right? You’re a weirdo and my aunt and I love you. You know that, yeah?”

“I know.” Lucky’s smile wavered, eyes dimming a little. “You aren’t coming home, are you? You’re leaving me behind.”

“Herc and Charlie will be coming home in a few days. I promise. You can still have them.” Judging by the hurt look on his aunt’s face, that wasn’t enough. He wasn’t even close to surprised. “I have to go, Lucks. There’s kaiju that need their faces busted in.”

The joke he was only half-expecting didn’t come, heart twisting as she moved away from the screen. He knew it would happen, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. She didn’t handle goodbyes well. Not since he’d left. It had been a terrible idea but he had to make sure she knew. He wasn’t coming back, no matter what, but they were. That was all that mattered.

He sighed softly, drawing back a little as he offered weakly, “I don’t have a choice. You know how it is and you’d do the fucking same if you could. You did do the same. I just have higher stakes.”

Lucky didn’t respond, vanishing entirely before he could get another word out. He still wasn’t surprised. She had never been what someone could call stable after Scott had messed up. She couldn’t even look at her remaining pilot anymore.

“What are you planning?” Herc asked, shutting off the call. “You’re the only one of us who can get outta there, not the other bloody way around.”

He couldn’t answer that, not when he knew Herc would try and circumvent his plan, and let the projection stop. Running from emotions was just another little trait he’d gotten from his pilots.

 

**_January 4, 2025_ **

“I don’t get why Mako’s been excluded,” Gipsy muttered, glancing over at the people sparring with a critical eye. “She knows more about me than they would. More than you do, even.”

Raleigh sighed, giving his brother a tired look. Any time the sparring was mentioned the day before he’d heard the same thing, a litany of reasons why Mako was a better choice than any of them. He didn’t mind her, not in the least, but Gipsy’s praise was rather grating after hours of it.

“How about you go talk to Striker while I do this? You two got along well enough at lunch yesterday,” Raleigh said, hoping he’d take the bait and go.

Gipsy shot him an irritated look, repeating, “I don’t like him. But he’s better to talk to than you are.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he headed for the mat. Sometimes he was without a doubt the most childish person Raleigh had ever met, which was actually quite fitting. He was the youngest, after all.

The sparring didn’t go smoothly, as Gipsy had predicted a million times since Raleigh had been told about it. None of the candidates fit, the fights sharp and fast and never right. They weren’t compatible. Every fight ended the same way, with a mounting sense of disappointment and the same unimpressed face from Mako. He wasn’t sure what was more grating after a while.

Gipsy sighed heavily, sinking down to sit on the ground next to Crimson as he watched. He knew it wasn’t going to go well. None of them were experienced enough. Even out of action for five years, Raleigh still had more technique than they had had the chance to ever learn.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned, watching as Raleigh crossed the mat towards Mako. “Don’t start that, Rals.”

He heard a chuckle and glanced up, catching sight of Striker watching the scene with far more amusement than was really necessary. Of course he’d find Raleigh getting into trouble with the Marshal funny. He was Chuck’s AI, after all.

“Feel like shutting up? Some of us are actually interested in the results of this, not your simulated laugh track,” he hissed, trying to ignore the strange feeling in his chest at Striker’s amused grin. “Sit down and shut up.”

Gipsy definitely wasn’t expecting him to actually listen, considering how funny he seemed to find the situation, but then Striker gracelessly flopped down next to him, wings spreading out and simulating drooping against the ground. He didn’t understand why he had them, especially not with the metallic sheen, but he wasn’t going to ask right then. He could do that after the sparring was over.

“He isn’t as bad as we expected,” Striker offered after a few moments of watching, eyes carefully focused on the sparring match. “They look good together.”

He hesitated, glancing at him to try and tell if he was being sarcastic, before agreeing, “They look compatible. I knew they would be.”

The silence was more comfortable this time as they both watched. Striker didn’t say anything despite the millions of sarcastic comments thrumming through his processors because even if he didn’t like the idea of trusting a rookie and someone who had been out of commission for five years with his brother or father but he could see they were compatible. They were compatible and he was out of options.  Herc trusted Raleigh too, which would probably be enough without the sparring demonstration if he wasn't vividly aware and completely disgusted by how much his father wanted the has-been's dick.

“You said that out loud,” Gipsy said, tone torn between scolding and amused as he stood. “I don’t think Herc wants anyone to know that.”

He rolled his eyes, wings curling a little closer as he sniped, “I didn’t want to know that.”

He glanced back over for his brother, trying to decide if he wanted to say what was on his mind, before joking, “Maybe if we survive this, we should get them to fess up. You saw them at lunch.”

“I was a little more interested in you,” Striker said, pausing after his words as his wings twitched. “Because we were discussing all the repairs and shit. And that’s the only reason. I have to go.”

He flickered out of sight before Gipsy could say anything, left with the strange feeling in his chest again and not a clue what he was meant to do about it. He was still staring at where Striker had been when Raleigh crossed to him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“You were right, Gips.” He grinned wide, setting the hanbo down as he kept talking. “We’re definitely compatible. And you’re right, she knows heaps about your systems, and that might even make it easier.”

Raleigh noticed he still seemed distracted, frowning and waving a hand in front of his eyes as he asked, “Are you alright? Striker wasn’t a tool or anything, was he?”

“No, he was fine. Just thinking about the sparring,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for Raleigh to hear. “Now we just need to hope for a good test run. Any test run.”

“Any is the better word here.” He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I’m going to go talk to Mako. Are you coming?”

Gipsy hesitated before shaking his head, responding, “She knows how I feel about her piloting. There’s nothing I can say she hasn’t heard. I’ll just rest until it’s time.”

Raleigh frowned, scooping up his sweater and boots as he repeated, “Are you alright? I thought you’d jump at the chance to talk to her. You seem close.”

“I’m fine, you great lump, go get your co-pilot,” he muttered before vanishing.

 

She scowled as a lump of metal went through her projection, making sure that Newt caught the brunt of it as she flickered back into existence. Her own protocol meant that she couldn’t leave and force him to deal with the aftermath of the experiment alone, no matter how much she wanted to, and she couldn’t help but hope her irritation would force the drift to fail. She still couldn’t understand why she even had drift potential, considering why she’d been created.

“This won’t work,” Hypatia repeated, stepping closer to the contraption. “You aren’t qualified to create drift technology and the human brain won’t be able to store the amount of information that could be contained in that brain. My processors won’t be able to take the strain either. You could kill both of us.”

He clicked the last tube into place, scrambling up as he quickly said, “Shut up. This is going to work and we’ll both be rock stars. If a computer program can be a rock star.”

Newt scooped up his recorder, quickly standing and shoving the small USB drive into the port. She threw an irritated glance at the machine, trying to find some way around the protocols as she listened to Newt.

“Kaiju/human drift experiment, take one.” He busied himself connecting the last tube to the kaiju’s container as he spoke, trying to record everything just in case something didn’t go according to plan. “The, uh, the brain segment is the frontal lobe. Um, chances are the segment’s far too damaged to drift with. If it is the information should be recorded safely on the K-Science drives if it survives the buffer process. If, uh, not, it’ll just have to come from me.”

Newt headed back to his work, scooping up the neural interface cap and quickly tugging it on as he added, “Unscientific aside. Hermann, if you’re listening to this, well, I’m either alive and I’ve proven what I’ve just done works, in which case ha ha, I won, or I’m dead and I’d like you to know that it’s all your fault. It really is. You drove me to this.”

“It’s his fault for refusing to accept when theory isn’t scientifically sound and continuing to pursue said theory without approval or medical assistance,” Hypatia interjected, voice louder than usual to make sure it picked up on the recording.

He waved a dismissive hand at her, continuing, “In which case, ha, I also won. Sort of. I’m going in in three… two… one.”

The second he pushed the button, they were sucked into the drift. At first it was nothing interesting, memories from his life interspersed with strange mathematical formulae he’d never heard of and facts he’d never tried to learn. It took a few moments to register that those were Hypatia’s memories and thoughts, that those strange facts about Greece were ones she’d learned purely because of her name. It took even longer to realise that they were actually drifting, that she could see everything running through his mind the same way he could see what was in hers.

It wasn’t overly disconcerting until he felt the third pressure, the third voice, floating through the drift. The snatches of images and thoughts that flicked through his mind almost hurt as he tried to make sense of them, colours and shapes all blurring together as he tried to understand the words flickering through Hypatia and into his mind.

_‘the precursors are pleased the precursors are coming they have seen your world and it is ready for them you have made it so perfect for us we are coming coming to breed and grow and it will be our world’_

It took a moment for the words to filter in enough to even begin to make sense but when they did the shock that ran through him was almost enough to knock him out of the flow of the drift. He had been right. He had been so right. It wasn’t just a coincidence that the DNA had been identical or that all of them looked so different. It was all part of a plan and the plan was working.

_‘your world is ripe for the taking and ours is dying you will all die you will all die like we have like all of us who were too weak you will die and we will take what is ours and the precursors will be so pleased so very pleased so very pleased’_

_‘Newton, you need to disconnect.’_

The first kaiju had been forerunners. The more they saw of the world, the more they saw of what humans were capable of, the more specialised they made the kaiju. It was all part of a plan, a plan orchestrated by something with far more strategic capabilities than the kaiju had. They were soldiers. Their masters weren’t. Their masters were coming.

_‘another and another another another your world is ready and they are so tired of playing and we are hungry we are ready you wont survive not this time we are stronger we are ready another another another another you will all die and we will take what is ours all of us will take it will be ours you will all die’_

_‘Oh God, it sees me’_

He didn’t know what triggered the thought but before he could even try and figure out if he was right everything was falling apart around him and he was shaking. Or someone was shaking him. He could hear voices, voices he didn’t understand, but the pressure faded out and there was only his body again.

 

“Would like to talk to little jaeger,” Cherno said calmly, folding her arms as she looked at Raleigh. Daring him to argue. “Will not take long.”

He hesitated before activating the projection and, at Gipsy’s small nod, heading into the room to suit up. He could always vanish if he got uncomfortable and there wasn’t much a hologram could do besides talk.

“You do not think about brother. That help nothing. Focus on now. You have new pilot. Very new. She need stability, not old memory. Focus on now.” Her eyes were serious as she spoke, unimpressed by the fact she even had to say any of this. “Many lives depending on you. On all. You do well or we all risk failing.”

He nodded slowly, glancing down. “I can do it. I can. I just need to breathe.”

She chuckled softly, giving him an amused look. “We do not breathe. We are image.”

“It’s just an expression,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Don’t they have expressions like that in Russia?”

“We have better.” Her grin turned a little more shark-like and he almost wanted to back away. “American very strange. We have much better. But you not worry about that. You go. Drift. Get it finished.”

He saluted, a little sarcastically, before asking, “Did Striker put you up to this? Because it sounds like something he’d do.”

“Little bowtie man, he passed message to pilots. I offered. Is easier to hear from other of same kind. Little man worries about you. But do best and he will be proud.” She nodded, thinking it over. “Yes. Good. Am done.”

He tried not to laugh, nodding quickly before heading into the room to meet his brother. Raleigh’s new drivesuit was black and shiny, nothing like the white one still in his files. It was better in a lot of ways.

“I can’t suit up. I don’t have one in my directory.” He could only hope Raleigh didn’t question it, pretty damn sure that wearing the suit he had when Yancy died wouldn’t help matters. “Since it’s just a sim, do you think I can get away with plain clothes?”

“You really don’t have anything in there?” He frowned a little, letting the technician do up the last few things. “Did they delete the old one?”

“Yeah, they must have. Maybe because they were upgrading me.” He shrugged, hoping his brother believed him. He normally did, after all, so it shouldn’t be any different this time. “I guess it must have slipped someone’s mind near the end of the update.”

His frown only deepened but he nodded, accepting the lie without a thought just like Gipsy hoped he would. He wasn’t the kind to lie often, especially not to his brothers, but there was always some sort of special occasion. Trying to help Raleigh was one of them.

They headed into the restored conn pod, everything almost back to the way it used to be. Raleigh heaved a soft sigh, similar to the one he’d let out when he saw his brother had been put back together, before heading towards the right side of the conn pod. He had always felt more comfortable on the left, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Not with his arm.

“Setting harness for test mode. Waiting for second pilot.” He finished entering the command, glancing over at Gipsy briefly. “You ready for this?”

 “I’m built for this. I’m always ready.” His tone was as reassuring as he could manage in the situation, with the pressure of Pitfall weighing on him already. If they didn’t get this right, that was one less jaeger that could help.

Raleigh shook out the tenseness in his shoulders, hearing the still-familiar sound of drivesuit boots on the metal floor as Gipsy announced the presence of his new co-pilot. “I’m gonna take this side, if you don’t mind. My left arm’s kind of shot.”

“Sure,” Mako agreed, smiling a little at the pair of them.

He couldn’t help but smile back, surprised but thrilled. The other people from sparring would never have been able to make it work, but Gipsy had been right. They were compatible. She was going to be a good pilot for him. They already knew each other, after all.

“Are you gonna say anything?” she asked, tilting her head a little.

Raleigh couldn’t quite stop the small smile as he glanced away, shaking his head. “No point. In five minutes you’re gonna be inside my head.” He looked back over, shooting her a wider smile despite the slightly unimpressed look on her face. “You look good.”

They shared another smile before Gipsy cleared his throat, breaking the brief silence and forcing their focus back to what they were meant to be doing.

“You guys probably need to actually put your helmets on for this to work.”

Everything was set up and running smoothly, as far as Gipsy could tell. The drift hadn’t started yet but at least the systems were running correctly. He wasn’t quite as outdated as some people had thought, apparently.

“Okay. We’re not in the simulator now, Mako.” He only just refrained the urge to say something sarcastic as Raleigh kept talking. “Remember, don’t chase the RABIT. Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers. Memories. Just let them flow, don't latch on. Tune them out. Stay in the drift. The drift is silence.”

Gispy rolled his eyes, stepping to his spot between them. “Now that he’s done his usual over-helping, let’s start this. Neural interface drift initiated.”

The drift sucked them into memories, the new personality and thoughts crashing into Gipsy and pressing against the place Yancy was meant to be. He barely managed to stay with the flow instead of recoiling, focusing on the familiar memories from Raleigh. He could manage if he just focused on Raleigh.

Everything was strange and new, Mako’s mind so very different from Yancy’s or Raleigh’s, but as the memories flowed and ebbed in a strange nonsensical pattern he couldn’t begin to make sense of it slowly became easier. The new memories slowly settled into his mind, washing over the remnants of Yancy a bit too much for it to really be comfortable but he didn’t have a choice. They needed the drift to work. He didn’t have a choice about how much of Yancy he had left.

It was harder than he wanted to admit to focus on the information from his body flowing into his processors, letting his hologram fizzle out as he tried to concentrate. “Right hemisphere calibrated. Left hemisphere calibrated. Ready to activate the jaeger.”

The thrum of the drift was strong despite the strangeness of a new mind, stable enough to control the jaeger at the very least. That was all that mattered. If they could finish the mission, that was what was important. All they needed to do was finish the mission.

They moved through the old series of moves effortlessly, a burst of relief flying through him as he realised they had a real chance. “Calibration complete.”

He almost missed the spike in Raleigh’s brainwaves, the memories that shouldn’t be there, but he couldn’t miss the sound of Yancy’s voice. Especially not when it was that memory. He’d always be able to recognise that memory.

“Pilot out of alignment,” he reported, protocol taking over as his systems tried to drag Raleigh back out of the memory. “You need to focus. Rals. Breathe. Rals, it’s just a memory. You know that.”

He barely registered Tendo’s voice, focusing on his brother. “I’m okay. Just let me control it.”

“Out of alignment. Code red.” Gipsy couldn’t even control the words, protocol taking over and leaving him caught in the jumbled flow of memories and noise.

He was only there to observe and guide but with both of his pilots falling out of sync so soon after each other his protocols couldn’t keep up. Even with everything Mako had done, he still had to leave almost all of it to Raleigh. He could barely even stay with the flow as the emotions overwhelmed him. He couldn’t even get his own systems to respond, control firmly with his pilots as his controls struggled to keep up. All he could was watch. By the time the power was cut and he felt the connection to his body get cut he’d seen more than he’d ever want to.

“Weapon system disengaged. Neural bridge exercise invalid. Drift sequence terminated.” The hologram flickered back into view and he crouched down next to his pilots, wishing he could do something besides talk, even if Raleigh seemed to have a handle on things. “I have to deactivate now. For testing.”

Raleigh glanced up, silently questioning if he was alright, and Gipsy just nodded before vanishing. It was easier to say he was alright then to talk about how tired he was.

 

By the time Hermann left, Hypatia had managed to stabilise her projection enough to settle back into what she had mentally claimed as her chair as she tried to focus her processors. Nothing made sense. What she had managed to retain from the kaiju only made her flicker again the more she thought about it. That didn’t help anything.

“You could have killed us,” she said lowly, glancing up at the shaking man. “You almost did kill yourself.”

He barely managed to lift the glass to his lips, trembling too hard, but croaked out, “I’m glad you finally care.”

“Just because I shared your brain doesn’t mean I care about you,” she muttered, making her way across the room.

Newt heard Hermann in the hall and chose not to address that, instead trying to wipe away the fresh trickle of blood from his nose. It was her job to help him with experiments. If they had died, like she kept saying, then it would have just been part of the job. That’s all it was.

He glanced up, not able to help the small grin, as he said, “I told you it would work.”

“Yes, you did. Well, what did you see?” Pentecost asked, sparing a glance for the flickering AI before focusing on the scientist again.

“It was only a fragment of a brain, so really all I was able to get was, like, a series of uh…” he trailed off, shaking hand dropping back to the arm of the chair.

Hypatia paused before supplying, “Images. Like when a human blinks over and over and all they see are frames.”

Newt nodded as Pentecost dragged a chair over, continuing, “Impressions. It was emotion.”

“Newton, Newton.” He sat down, leaning in to try and catch the scientist’s attention. “Okay, Newton. Newton, look at me. Now I want you to take your time and be very specific.”

His face twitched a little, almost like he was about to smile, as he said, “Okay, okay. Well, I-- we don’t feel like they’re just following some sort of animalistic urge, you know, just hunting and gathering. And I think they’re attacking us under orders.”

“That’s impossible,” Hermann declared, triggering another one of their normal arguments with the two words. Unlike all the other times they started to argue, there was someone to make them stop.

“You! Shut up!” Pentecost turned to Hermann, pointing at him like it was necessary to clear up which one of them he was talking to. After he was sure the man had gotten the message he turned back around, pointing at Newt. “You, keep talking.”

He glanced over at the AI, almost questioning, before saying, “These beings, these master, they’re colonists. They overtake worlds. They just consume them and then they move on to the next.”

“And they’ve been here before. A trial run, to see if they could colonise Earth,” Hypatia added, falling silent at the look from Pentecost.

“Yeah, it was the dinosaurs. But the atmosphere wasn’t conducive, right? So they waited it out. And they waited it out. And now with ozone depletion and carbon monoxide, polluted waters, well, we’ve practically terraformed it for them. Because now they’re coming back and it’s perfect.” Newt kept talking as Pentecost leaned back, not even needing to think about the words. They just tumbled out of his mouth. “See, the first wave, that was just the hounds. Categories I through IV, it was nothing. Their sole purpose was to aim for the populated areas and to take out the vermin: us! The second wave, that is the exterminators. And they will finish the job. And then the new tenants will take possession. See, the reason I found the identical DNA in the two separate kaiju organs is because they are grown!”

“Newton, I need you to do it again,” Pentecost said. “I need more information.”

Hypatia glanced between the group, cautiously offering, “We can’t do it again. The brain was barely functional enough to work for a drift before. It’s ruined now.”

“So, unless you happen to have a fresh kaiju brain lying around.” He forced a small chuckle before noticing the look on the Marshal’s face, eyebrows furrowing a little as he asked, “Do you?”

 

“I still don’t see why I have to come with you after what you’ve done to me,” Hypatia hissed, following Newt through the bustle of the Bone Slums with a sour expression. “My processors are still reeling from that. You could have fried my entire system.”

“But I didn’t. And it’s in your protocols to help me with experiments,” he protested, glancing down at the orange card in his hand.

She gestured to the glitch in her projection, the red-rimmed and miscoloured eye that matched his, as she asked, “Does this look like something my processors are meant to allow? I can assure you, it isn’t.”

Newt ignored her, glancing around for any sign of a matching symbol, before darting over to a sign in the middle of the road. Hypatia followed him, arms wrapped tight around her ribs, and watched as he searched both sides with the blacklight, seemingly oblivious to the strange looks a couple of locals gave him. She wasn’t surprised. He could be extremely oblivious at the most inopportune times.

He finally found the arrow, crouching down to inspect it as he crooned, “Hello.”

“Lunatic,” she muttered, glancing at the arrow before starting to walk.

They made it up the stairs without too much argument, Hypatia reluctantly letting Newt take the lead since she couldn’t risk flickering out in the Bone Slums. Her projector wasn’t the same as the ones the jaegers used. It wasn’t meant for leaving the lab but circumstances called for it.

She lingered behind him as he headed into the store, trying to organise everything they’d seen into some sort of order. The kaiju had made sense before the drift, or as much sense as giant monsters from another dimension that crawled out of the ocean could make. The new information, the kaiju’s master, just gave her the closest and AI could have to a headache.

“Pss, pss. You looking for some kaiju bone powder?” one of the men behind the counter asked, leaning in a little like it was some sort of secret.

Newt frowned a little, eyebrows furrowing, as he asked, “Some--? Some bone--? Some bone powder? Uh, no. Why would I want that?”

“Male potency.” He walked around the counter, standing closer to Newt as he kept talking. “I take it myself.”

Hypatia rolled her eyes, stepping a little closer as she mused, "Oh, wow, he probably needs a lot of that stuff, it that’s the intended purpose. It would explain why Charles has been looking--"

“No, thank you,” he interjected, shooting the AI an irritated look before holding up the orange square of paper. “I’m looking for Hannibal Chau.”

The lock on the front door clicked, catching Newt’s attention for a moment, before the man started to walk towards the shelves and insisted, “Come.”

He pulled something on the shelf and they started to move, revealing rows of jars as he asked, “You want Chau, huh? Good luck.”

They’d only just made it into the hidden area when Newt exclaimed, “Oh my God! Oh my God, this place is heaven!”

She could barely keep up with him as he scrambled around the room, exclaiming at every new thing he saw. It was all so exciting for him, the emotion floating through their residual drift and confusing her as she followed him. The kaiju weren’t interesting for her. They were just creatures that needed to be understood so they could be stopped.

“I thought you couldn’t keep them alive!” he blurted, voice getting progressively higher as he leaned in to look at a kaiju skin parasite.

“You can if you soak them in ammonia.”

The excitement flickering in the ghost drift wavered as Newt turned, looking for the speaker. It wasn’t difficult to spot him. The gold shoes, at the very least, gave him away as someone with enough money to waste.

“What do you want?” he asked, crossing towards them, shoes clinking at every step.

Newt stepped away from the table, holding up the paper as explanation as he said, “I’m looking for Hannibal Chau. I was told he was here.”

The man stopped in front of him, slipping his hands from his pockets. “Who wants to know?”

Newt lifted his chin slightly, trying to put out an aura of confidence that she couldn’t feel in the drift, as he replied, “I can’t really say.”

It was silent for a moment, the two men just staring each other down, before the man moved. She wasn’t expecting him to move so fast, flicking out a butterfly knife with practised ease and opening it in a fluid movement. Newt didn’t quite realise what was going on until the blade was in his nostril and then his mind was focused elsewhere.

“Stacker Pentecost sent us!” he yelled, standing up on his tiptoes to try and stop the knife from slicing his nose. The man yanked it back out, quickly flicking it closed as Newt held his nose and groaned, “Ah! Oh, that’s great. That’s real great.”

“I suppose it’s safe to assume you’re Hannibal Chau,” Hypatia said lowly, struggling to keep her voice even. She didn’t like seeing anyone in pain, not even after the damage to her programs, but Newt tended to be very amusing when he was hopping around even with blood coming out of his nose.

“You like the name? I took it from my favourite historical character and my second-favourite Szechuan restaurant in Brooklyn,” Hannibal explained, gold teeth glinting dully as he spoke. He turned, starting to walk away. “Now, tell me what you want before I gut you like a pig and feed you to the skin louse.”

Newt glanced over at his AI, a little incredulous, before turning back to the black market dealer and clearing his throat. He had a pitch to sell and not much time to do it.


	3. Chapter 3

He hesitated outside Mako’s door, not sure if she even remembered that she was the one who’d ended up with his projector or if she’d want to see him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t. After what he’d seen and felt, he’d find it completely understandable.

“Miss Mori? Mako?” he called, waiting for her to answer before considering going inside. “I was worried about you. Can I come in?”

She didn’t answer for a few minutes and he was prepared just to go and rest until she was ready when the door opened a little. She looked a little calmer than the last time he saw her but her eyes were still red and it was all he could do not to say anything. Whatever he’d say would probably be stupid anyway.

“I am alright. You didn’t need to come,” she insisted softly, stepping aside to invite him in anyway. “I’m simply disappointed.”

“We all are,” he said, stepping past her and into the room. “The Marshal didn’t seem like he was going to give us another chance. Raleigh and I weren’t ready.”

She tried to smile, crossing to the chair by her desk and sitting as she corrected, “None of us were ready. It was different than the simulations.”

He nodded, lingering where he was as he offered, “You were doing well until Raleigh and I went out of phase. We threw you out, you know. You might not have even slipped if it wasn’t for us.”

She lightly patted the seat across from her, softly saying, “I have started another project. To better house your programs between drops. Would you like to hear?”

“I always want to hear about your projects, Mako.” Gipsy sunk into the seat with a small grin. “Maybe now that we’ve drifted, you won’t have to explain every little thing three times.”

“That would be preferable,” she mused, reaching for her tablet.

He knew what this was. Mako didn’t feel like talking about the drift, and that was fine. Talking about projects was just as good. He just didn’t want her to be alone after that. Seeing it second-hand was bad enough. He couldn’t imagine actually living through it. Even if he couldn’t stay forever, he could just talk about her projects until it was time for Tendo to check his programs.

 

Gipsy had only met the LOCCENT AI, Will, once and he already wasn’t sure about him. He’d never really been sure of an AIs that didn’t drift. He was sure his brother would have plenty of comments about that but it didn’t change anything. Will was strange and definitely did not seem capable of running anything, let alone the whole of LOCCENT.

Despite his misgivings it took until his hologram flickered out for the seventh time for him to snap, “What the hell are you doing? Digging for gold? My programming’s probably in worse shape than it was before you started!”

The other AI peered at him through glasses that Gipsy probably didn’t need to be quite as judgemental of but were definitely for nothing but show, expression confused and innocent. His hands pulled away from the interactive screen, giving him a few moments to silently check his systems, as Will glanced around for something. He wasn’t particularly inclined to ask what, considering everything.

“You have a lot of damage in your projection matrix. I mean, someone really should have repaired it. I don’t know why they wouldn’t, but humans miss things sometimes. Horribly inefficient.” He trailed off when he noticed the glare he was getting. “Not that you sharing a neural connections with humans makes you any lesser. Oh, no. great lot, you jaegers. I mean, I really respect you. I do. And humans. Love them, even if they aren’t the most efficient. I just love the way they look. And going out with you guys to fight the kaiju? Wow. Phenomenal.”

That just made him roll his eyes. “Check the repair files. Miss Mori made a note that my hologram matrix was to be left alone. Get your damn fingers out of me.”

The conversation would have undoubtedly evolved into something both of them could get into serious trouble for if there hadn’t been an alert. Will frowned, turning away and mercifully closing down the curling lines of code that Gipsy still felt he had no business being in to start with. He had a strong feeling he knew what the alert was, since it was rare for there to be any kind of alert but a kaiju alarm, but he couldn’t help but hope a little. They had a bomb run to finish. They couldn’t risk anyone.

“Movement in the breach. Double event,” Will reported, his tone more professional than it had been mere moments ago. “Two signatures. Dilation indicator, Category IV.”

By the time his pilots had reached LOCCENT, everyone else was already there and suited up. The simple fact that Tendo hadn’t even looked at him since the alarm told him plenty. They weren’t going to be part of this drop.

“Breach was exposed at 2300 hours,” Tendo announced to the gathered staff, everyone focused and prepared for the worst news. “We have two signatures, both category IVs. Codenames: Otachi and Leatherback. They’ll reach Hong Kong within the hour.”

Striker stopped listening when Pentecost started giving orders, only paying enough attention to catch his name. His orders tended to be the same anyway. Fight the kaiju. Protect pilots. It was simple and routine. His eyes wandered the assembled personnel, reaching Cherno and her pilots, but before he could look away again she glanced over. He wasn’t expecting the small smile, softer and warmer than the others he’d seen before, or the jolt of happiness when he saw that expression. Judging by the uncomfortable throat-clearing from Chuck, he hadn’t been expecting it either.

“Christ, seriously?” he muttered, barely loud enough for Striker to hear.

He shrugged a little, glancing over at his brother. “She smiled at me.” He was almost positive he’d only be mocked for his happiness about it, but it was nice to have someone he respected so much give him an accepting look, even in the middle of the apocalypse. Maybe especially in the middle of an apocalypse.

Chuck glanced over towards the Marshal before lowering his voice even further, saying irritably, “You’re a goddamn professional. Act like it, wanker.”

He would’ve loved to point out how much he sounded like their father but settled for something that was more likely to get his message across. “I would punch you in the dick if I had hands.”

Then it was Herc’s turn to clear his throat, shooting both of them an irritated look, and the focus was meant to be back on the mission. Striker was almost ninety percent sure the moment the drift clicked into place he and Chuck would start arguing again, but at least they could claim they tried.

 

“Look at them. They believe the kaiju were sent from heaven. That the gods are expressing their displeasure with our behaviour,” Chau said, glancing down at the marching group with an expression of distaste. “The silly bastards.”

Newt glanced at Hypatia before asked, “And what do you believe?”

“Well,” he started, straightening back up. “I believe that kaiju bone powder is five hundred bucks a pound. What do you want?”

“We need to gain access to a kaiju brain. Completely intact, for our purposes,” she said, more than a little concerned Newt wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut about what their purposes were. The ghost drift was only making her more wary, not less.

Chau shook his head, saying, “No, no. The skull plate is so dense that by the time you drill into it—”

“The brain’s rotted away,” Newt agreed, a flicker of irritation spiking up. “But I’m talking about the secondary brain. Now we both know that the kaiju are so large they need two brains to move around, like a dinosaur. We want to get our hands on that.”

He leaned against the railing, possibly considering the request, as he asked, “What the hell do you want a secondary brain for, anyway? I mean, every part of the kaiju sells. Cartilage, spleen, liver. Even the crap! One cubic meter of crap has enough phosphorous in it to fertilize a whole field! But the brain… Too much ammonia.” Chau turned to face them again, frowning a little. “So, what’s the deal?”

“Well, that’s classified. So I couldn’t tell you. Even if I wanted to,” Newt declared, sending a spike of hope through the AI. Maybe he could keep his mouth shut. That hope was very abruptly cut off when he continued, taking off his glasses, “But it is pretty cool. So I might tell you. I’m gonna tell you.”

Hypatia stepped closer to him, eyes narrowed as she warned, “Geiszler, we aren’t here to share gossip. We have orders to collect the brain and leave.”

He waved a hand dismissively before turning his attention back to the taller man, saying, “I figured out how to drift with a kaiju.”

“Are you funning me, son?” Chau bit out, not looking nearly as impressed as Newt was hoping for.

“It’s fascinating how their minds work. Every single kaiju, his mind’s connected,” he explained excitedly, waving his hands as he spoke. “The species has like a, like a hive mind.”

Before he could react Chau was leaning forward, thumb pressing hard into the skin under his eye and pulling his lower eyelid down. Hypatia already knew what he’d see, had run comparisons on the blood-shot eye with the old files on the first jaeger pilots. It was very similar, though not identical, and she was already relatively sure that it was a side effect of an increased mental load. Judging by the look on Chau’s face, he had an idea of what had caused it too.

“Holy jeez.” He glanced over, almost like he was putting it all together, before turning back to Newt. “And she’s your AI. You’ve gone and done it, haven’t you?”

Newt still hadn’t moved, staring straight ahead as he answered, “We did it a little bit, yeah.”

Neither of them responded when they heard the kaiju alarm, still in their strange little staring match, before Chau shoved him back a step as he snapped, “You goddamn morons.”

He headed back inside, leaving the two of them on the balcony with the sound of the kaiju alarm and at least one of them with a sinking feeling. No one had ever drifted with a kaiju before. Maybe there was a good reason for that.

“Geiszler—”Hypatia started, cut off when he waved a hand at her face.

“I’ll reactivate you later,” he said, quickly turning off the display before she could try and argue.

 

Things were running smoothly as they made their way into the shallows, Herc already focused on trying to find the best place to wait. They were only to interfere as a last resort and he could feel Chuck’s irritation at having to hold back, the same irritation that flickered in the back of his mind. They were used to fighting. It felt strange to be waiting for a signal.

“LOCCENT, Striker’s got the ball and we’re on the roll,” Chuck reported, trying to ignore his brother’s amused snickering as they moved further into the water.

Herc rolled his eyes, reaching up to press the comm button. “LOCCENT, near positions and awaiting your orders.”

Pentecost’s voice came across from LOCCENT, as measured as always. “Remain in the miracle mile. Engage at your discretion.”

“Cherno, Crimson, you hear us?” He knew they probably could, but an old habit from working with Vulcan had stuck. “Keep your eyes open. These fuckers are the biggest we’ve seen in size and weight, they could really fuck you over if you ain’t prepared.”

He heard what was probably some form of insult from Crimson before Cherno announced, “Are prepared, pup. Hold position. We two will handle this.”

Herc glanced over as they stopped, arching an eyebrow in silent question. Chuck’s muffled laughter was slightly more obvious, but both reactions definitely got the message across. At any other moment, he would’ve simply snapped, but there were two Category IVs and two only two jaegers that were allowed to face them. There were more important things than the wave of amusement coming from his idiot brother.

All they could do was wait and watch as Cherno and Crimson took their positions, settling in for the kaiju to appear. When they did, they would still be relegated to waiting until there was no other choice, but at the very least there would be something to focus on.

They went for Crimson first. Striker couldn’t quite make out which kaiju was attacking them, but that didn’t matter. They still weren’t able to do anything but watch and Striker could feel the strain in his pilots’ muscles. Neither of them wanted to wait and he was pretty sure everyone could guess that, even if they weren’t in the drift with them, but they were trained. Following orders was what they knew how to do.

It wasn’t as easy as he’d like to see what was happening but a kaiju being tossed was hard to miss. Then Cherno was moving in, slower and heavier than Crimson, but still more than capable of smashing the kaiju into the water. For a few moments they were doing well, just like Striker hoped they’d always do, until whichever one it was knocked the older jaeger over. The spike of concern through the drift only made him want to help more.

Herc took the initiative, reaching up to comm the base and saying gruffly, “LOCCENT! Typhoon and Alpha are in trouble. We’re moving in!”

Before they could take a step Pentecost was back, ordering, “You are to hold your ground. Do not engage. We need you to carry that bomb. Do you copy?”

The disbelief and irritation bubbling in the drift warred with the habit of following orders, creating a mess of ideas that only got worse the longer they watched the fight. Cherno managed to get back up but it took long enough that the kaiju had the chance to grab onto Crimson, tearing into her viciously. Chuck’s anger finally reached a boiling point, much to Striker’s excitement, and he turned to his co-pilot with his customary scowl.

“Jesus, we can’t just sit here and watch them die. Come on!” he snapped, already straining to move.

He hesitated for a moment before saying irritably, “Screw this! LOCCENT, we’re moving in now!”

The second Herc was off the comm Striker took over, shouting, “Crimson! Transmit back to base already! We’re coming for your pilots, you just get back!”

The reply was fast-paced Mandarin, something he couldn’t quite translate under the circumstances, but even without knowing what a single word meant he knew what she was saying. No one left without knowing their pilots would be alright. Even though they could, it was too difficult to leave them behind and know they were going to die alone.

The feeling of hydraulics and mechanics moving as they started to run was a relief, even as they could only watch as the kaiju tore into Crimson. Cherno was back on her feet, but the kaiju wasn’t paying her even the littlest bit of attention. Crimson was the focus and she was being torn apart faster than they could reach her.

“Typhoon is gone,” Aleksis announced in Russian, speaking slow enough that his processors could actually keep up.

Striker was moments away from telling Cherno to transmit back when Sasha said, “Let’s get this bastard.” She wouldn’t listen to him after that. There was no way she would leave her parents behind, just like he would never leave his family behind. His plans had never accounted for a double event. There wasn’t any way for him to get them out in time.

The Russians advanced on the kaiju, clearly determined to avenge their fallen comrades, and Striker could feel in the drift that his pilots wanted nothing more than to help. They were just too far back to do much besides watch as Cherno reared back to throw a punch, aiming right for the kaiju’s face as it opened its mouth and a stream of something blue sprayed out onto the jaeger.

The comm crackled on again, Sasha calling out, “Cherno Alpha, we’ve been hit with some type of acid! Hull is compromised! We need backup immediately!”

Striker could barely even focus on his own pilots when the sound of Cherno’s agonised screams echoed through the link. That wasn’t meant to happen. She was meant to get out with her parents and they were meant to live. They were meant to get out of it all relatively okay. Instead, she was being burned by something acid and they couldn’t get there in time.

“Just hold on, Cherno!” Chuck yelled, trusting his brother already had the comm link open. “We’re on our way!”

He’d barely finished speaking before Striker snapped the link shut, unable to deal with the sounds coming from the other end as Cherno tried to regain her composure. They needed to focus and hearing that wasn’t helping anything. He could see enough of it happening to know the Kaidanovsky’s weren’t going to make it, that all his plans had fallen through, but they had to at least try something.

“Striker! Get the blades, now,” Herc barked, tone terser than usual which Striker could understand under the circumstances.

He followed the order without a second of thought, protocols taking over and starting to buffer against the ache in his chest as he watched his hero getting torn apart. They were almost there when the water swelled again and the second kaiju lunged out, stockier and heavier than the last, and threw its weight onto Cherno’s already damaged body.

One arm was already gone as the second kaiju pounded at Cherno’s head, smashing at the power cells housed there and almost dragging the sturdy jaeger over with its sheer weight. He could hear a snatch of Russian over the comm but didn’t pause to make it out, following the silent order in the drift and preparing to strike as the kaiju tore apart the top of the Mark I jaeger.

The water surged again before they could reach her, thinner kaiju erupting and pushing right up into their grasp. His fist slammed into the side of the creature, other hand catching one its horns in a tight grip. It only made it easier to bring his fist down onto its face, again and again until they caught it with a vicious uppercut. There was no chance of getting to Cherno in time, but at least they could try and salvage the mission.

Even considering the fact it was a Category IV, the fight seemed to be going smoothly. He could feel the strain in his systems, the strange phantom sensation that accompanied every fight, but there was none of the pain that came with being damaged. Even when they lifted the kaiju, everything complaining at the weight they were carrying, and they were completely exposed it still seemed to be going in their favour. There was a second kaiju but they were still intact. If they could just loose a salvo they had a chance.

“Engaging air missiles,” Herc announced, more for the sake of the record than anything else. The order had already flickered through the drift before he said anything.

The metal plates retracted, cannons flicking out as the firing sequence started. It seemed like they would at least be able to get a hit in until the second kaiju lifted its head, letting out a roar as some part of its back seemed to glow. A searing pain crackled through him and into his pilots, rebounding through the neural link, and then he was gone.

“Striker!” Chuck snapped, reaching up to try and hit anything that could bring his brother back online, freeing his helmet with his other hand. “The shockwave knocked him out. We can’t do a goddamn thing.”

Herc tossed his helmet onto the floor of the conn pod, reaching forward to check the emergency power. He trusted that his son knew what he was talking about, especially when it came to Striker’s systems, but he had to check. If he was right, they’d need to get the drive and get out.

“There’s no emergency power,” Herc confirmed, smacking the screen irritably before leaning back.

He shot a glance over to the drive plugged into the wall, frowning at the dimness of the green light, before going back to trying to get some sort of response from the consoles. “We gotta bail.”

“I’m gonna try something else,” he said as he quickly pressed the button to release the harness.

“No! Don’t disengage!” Chuck snapped the second he recognised what the sound was, reaching over to try and grab his father’s shoulder.

Almost immediately after the harness was disengaged Leatherback knocked the side of Striker’s head, throwing both pilots to the side. Chuck’s harness held him mostly still, stopping anything worse than a moment of disorientation, but Herc was thrown across the conn pod. He slammed into the other side of the space with a pained yell, feeling the sharp pain in his shoulder that he remembered vividly from his days of rugby. The difference was he didn’t have Scott’s angry voice calling insults and could still hear the rumble of the kaiju outside.

Chuck disengaged from the harness as quickly as he could, rushing to his father’s side and trying to pull him up. “Come on! Get on your feet, old man!”

“Don’t call me that!” he snapped, holding his arm close to his chest as he was helped to his feet.

Herc ignored the sticky feeling of blood on his face, trying to focus as he shook Chuck off. There weren’t enough options. If Pentecost stuck to his plan, there wouldn’t be any options.

“He’s right outside.” Chuck watched his father walk away, reaching over to snatch the small device that contained Striker out of the wall socket. “We gotta get outta here, now!”

“We’re not going anywhere!” He reluctantly let his arm fall back to his side, trying to block out the ache in his shoulder as he crossed towards the flare guns. “Now you and I are the only thing standing between that ugly bastard and a city of ten million people. Now we have a choice here. We either sit and wait or we take these flare guns and do something really stupid.”

He didn’t have to wait to know Chuck’s answer. The simple fact there were ten million people out there relying on them and he had their AI in his hand was enough of an answer. He wanted to get out of the jaeger and the odds of them getting out alive were already minimal. His nod was a little shakier than he would ever admit to but he still reached over to take the flare guns, just like Herc knew he would.

By the time he’d made it out of the hatch on top of Striker’s head, he was positive he’d broken his collarbone again. The sickening crack had been the same as before and the ache was almost worse. Even if they made it out with Striker intact, he could never complete the bomb run.

He’d barely made it through the hatch before Chuck asked, “How’s your arm?”

“Ah, just give me the gun,” Herc said irritably, reaching over. They didn’t have time. He glanced up at the kaiju, vaguely registering that it was just as ugly as all of the others he’d seen, before yelling, “Hey you!”

It made what was probably a low growl for something so large, shifting a little closer, before they lifted the guns. Even knowing that something so small wouldn’t do anything to a kaiju, they fired, aiming right for its face. One flare only hit what Herc assumed would still be considered its jaw, the other burning into one of its eyes.

“I think we just pissed it off!” Chuck called, leaning a little closer to be heard over the pained roar.

He was on the verge of making a sarcastic comment he normally wouldn’t bother with when the kaiju snarled again, lifting thick arms to bring them down on the immobile jaeger and his pilots. Chuck lifted the gun again, more out of instinct than anything, before a near-blinding light flicked on behind the kaiju, accompanied by the sound of helicopters. The kaiju turned a little, another rumble escaping, and it was just enough for Herc to make out the shape of Gipsy.

“The other one’s headed towards the city already. One at a time,” Gipsy said as calmly as he could manage, trying to stay focused. “Otachi seemed to have the acid, not Leatherback, so that’s one less problem.”

Raleigh nodded a little, glancing over at his co-pilot. “Alright, Mako. Get ready, this is for real!”

She had just enough time to nod slightly before Leatherback let out a roar, charging towards the jaeger. They had enough time to side-step, ducking under the kaiju’s swing, before turning and trying to get a good grip on the glowing organ on its back. Gipsy could feel the strain in his servos, the sort of strain he hadn’t felt for five years, as his fingers dug deep into bioluminescent patch and yanked.

It tore free with another tug, energy crackling from it and up his arm, and they twisted to throw it away. Before they could turn back and brace themselves, Leatherback was surging forward, catching Gipsy around the middle and twisting. Its claws raked against his side, sending a spike of pain through him, before it threw them clear towards the shore. The sensation of spinning as they flew was disorientating but despite that he could feel them bracing for the impact, preparing himself to try and absorb as much of the blow as he could.

By the time they were up the right way, Gipsy could already feel the dented and scraped patches of his plating and made a note that they’d need to be replaced without really thinking about it. That hadn’t been something he’d ever done before they started to drift with Mako. A hint of amusement fluttered across from Raleigh before they were focused again, his fingers curling around the shipping containers under his hands.

Leatherback let out a roar before starting to charge, heading straight for Gipsy. His fingers curled tighter around the crates as his pilots’ fingers moved before they released them completely, focus rapidly shifting back to getting up and back into the fight.

“Come on!” Raleigh shouted, both of them moving to stand as Gipsy tried to keep the drift balanced and stable. “Let’s do this! Together!”

They pushed up, breaking into a run almost the second they were on their feet. It was easy enough to manage, heading straight for the charging kaiju as ideas flicked through the drift. They settled on a manoeuvre just in time, ports on his back firing to give them the extra height they needed as they lunged forward.

They brought his fist down on the kaiju’s head, slamming its face down into the ground as they landed. They straightened and adjusted their stance before reaching forward, metal fingers curling tight around one of the ridges on Leatherback’s face to hold his head still. It lifted its paw to take a swipe at them, not managing to land a blow before they slammed his fist into its face. They did it again before it could respond, knuckles catching its jaw with a satisfying crunch.

“Elbow rocket!” Raleigh shouted as they drew Gipsy’s fist back, well aware his brother would handle it once the command had been issued.

The protocol started immediately, panels starting to shift and rockets preparing to fire. “Elbow rocket, engaged.”

“Now!” he yelled, moving to drop Gipsy’s arm slightly as the rockets fired.

He paused for a moment longer, letting the rocket reach full burn, before his fist crashed straight into its face. The reverberations ran up his arm as it reeled, staggering backwards until it hit the ground. A second of satisfaction flickered through the drift until it pushed up again, grabbing at the crane next to it and twisting to swing at them.

The metal slammed into his shoulder, scraping across his face, as they tried to keep balanced. A surge of concern flew from Raleigh, quieted by Gipsy’s quick burst of reassurance, before they were hit from the other side and toppled to the ground. The shipping crates scraped against his chest and his arms as they landed before an idea flickered into existence and they curled his hands around the crates.

They pushed back up, gripping the dented and twisted containers tightly, and twisted to face Leatherback. His fist slammed into its face again, movements still fast and fluid despite being knocked down. They brought his hands up quickly, smashing its face between the heavy sharp-edged crates. It was disoriented for a moment before letting out a roar, the action met by the bottom of his palm slamming into its face.

Leatherback fell again, hitting the ground hard, and Gipsy stepped forward to loop his arms quickly under its arms. It twisted violently and struggled, straining to try and escape, and Gipsy could feel how difficult it was for his pilots to hold onto the heavy creature.

“Hold on, Mako!” Raleigh called, focused on holding on for just a bit longer as it kicked and tried to climb the pile of containers, making them lean back even further to keep Gipsy’s hands locked around its shoulders.

It was hard to throw the heavy beast but his engineering managed it, sending Leatherback flying and crashing to the ground again. It skidded back a little before pushing itself up, slamming its paws into the ground as it roared, mouth glowing blue with bioluminescence. It lunged forward, slamming into him before he could do anything and shoving them back as it snapped at his face.

“Plasma cannon, now!” Raleigh ordered, struggling to keep balanced as they were shoved back further.

His hand shifted and cannon charged faster than it used to as he snapped, “About fucking time, Rals! Plasma canon engaged.”

The displays flicked up around their right arms, displaying all the details they needed, and a moment later the cannon fired. The kaiju’s weight and momentum kept shoving them back as three shots fired into its chest, Gipsy quickly deciding that he was going to keep firing until it stopped snapping near his face.

“Empty the clip!” There were a million sarcastic comments he wanted to make at his brother’s shout, all of them flying out of his processors as his back went through a bridge. “Empty the clip!”

Gipsy kept firing, irritation and panic growing as Leatherback didn’t stop. It was a Category IV and he’d been taken down once by a Category III. It only started to subside a little when the angle of the cannon changed slightly and a good shot took the kaiju’s left arm off, wounded side glowing and burned. It took another two shots until it stopped flailing and clawing at his side, the force pushing them back slowly ebbing as they reached the edge of the dock.

They shoved it back onto the ground as the cannon slowly powered down, straightening once the weight was gone. His hand shifted back as his pilots caught their breath, none of the excitement that had accompanied Raleigh and Yancy’s kills floating through the drift. Things weren’t the same as they were back then.

They were starting to walk to the city when Gipsy felt a spike in Raleigh’s mind, hints of a memory slipping into his view as his brother said, “Wait. I think this guy’s dead. But let’s check for a pulse.”

“Okay,” Mako agreed, working with him to turn around.

Gipsy activated the cannon on her side, waiting until they’d lifted his arm to fire quickly. He watched with a strange sense of amusement as Leatherback was torn apart by the bursts even though he knew the splattered kaiju blue was only going to cause more problems. By the time they retracted the cannon, its ribcage was exposed and internal organs glowing a dull orange and the amusement had waned.

“No pulse,” Raleigh said simply, just as serious as earlier, as the displays around their arms shut down.

They turned around again, focused on the city where the other kaiju had gone, and a spike of determination flew through the drift. One down, one to go.

 

By the time they had made it into the city and located Otachi, the kaiju had clearly found something that had caught its interest. It was hard to make out with the size of the creature, but Gipsy assumed it was trying to get to something underground. Knowing that a lot of the shelters were underground made the desire to slam the kaiju in the face with the oil tanker that much stronger.

“Yes, you can use the horn,” Raleigh said before he could ask, a hint of a smile on his face before he was back to all seriousness. “I know you think it works best.”

He scoffed, sniping, “That’s because it does,” before sounding the foghorn.

The kaiju pulled its head free of the ground, turning around a lot less gracefully than Gipsy had expected. It almost looked deformed, front legs so much longer than it’s back, and he couldn’t help but hope it would be a little easier to kill than the last kaiju. If it was that clumsy just turning around, it couldn’t be that good a fighter.

“Torque engaged,” he announced, focusing on keeping the tanker in his grip as his pilots swung it around like a baseball bat.

Otachi lunged forward and was met with a hit to the face, quickly followed by another swing that sent its head crashing into a building. They got in two more hits before its tail snapped forward, clawed end wrapping tight around the tanker and roughly ripping it from his hands. The heavy boat went flying, twisting in the air until the ends dragged through the glass sides of a pair of buildings.

Before they could come up with a plan the tail was smashing into his chest, sending him flying backwards. He skidded along the ground, barely able to keep the worst of the pain out of the drift as his plating was scratched and dented. He almost expected the kaiju to lunge at him before they could get back up but when he was back on his feet, hand braced on the building to help keep him balanced, Otachi was scampering away. It was a lot faster than he’d expected and a lot better at hiding between the tall buildings than he liked.

“I can’t pinpoint it. It’s moving quick,” Raleigh said, reaching forward to flick the comm back on. “Keep your eyes open. Choppers, do you have a visual? Over.”

They kept moving through the tall buildings, looking around for any sign of the creature, and Gipsy couldn’t help but wish they had room to use his new swords. They could do plenty of damage a kaiju but if they even tried to draw them they’d only get trapped in or between buildings. Different measures needed to be used to get rid of the kaiju before it killed anyone, or at least killed anyone else.

They slowed, Gipsy’s head moving from side to side as he tried to pinpoint any sign of the kaiju. As the signal finally cleared on his sensors the creature leapt out of the building next to them, slamming into him and knocking him headfirst into another building. It took a second too long to regain their footing, turning as quickly as they could and slamming a fist into the kaiju’s face. They followed it with another punch, drift thrumming strongly as they tried to predict the next possible move, but their third strike went over its head and into a building.

Otachi’s claws dug into the side of his chest, throwing them into the building again, and smashing his face into a glowing sign. Even with as much of it blocked from the drift as he could manage, he knew that his pilots could feel it. He couldn’t keep focused when the claws dug into his shoulder, turning him roughly and slamming him back into the building his fist had just damaged. He could feel in the drift that they’d expected the pressure to let up, enough to do anything, but Otachi just kept forcing them back, right through the office building and forcing them out the other side with so much force that they slammed into the ground before flipping over.

They’d barely made it to their feet before Otachi opened its jaws, head jerking slightly before a stream of glowing blue liquid flew towards them. They threw themselves to the right, lifting their left arm in time that it sprayed on the building behind them and no drops landed on him. They turned, watching the melted glass drop down in the aftermath of what had to be the same acid that had burned Cherno.

Otachi opened its mouth to spit again and they quickly decided they were out of options. That acid had melted Cherno’s face off. They needed to stop it from spitting any more. His hand flew forward, catching the long tongue in a tight grip, and tugging as hard as he could manage. Teeth dug into his wrist, making them lift his other arm to try and pull its jaw open more, before a long tail wrapped tight around his arm and tugged back. The clawed end snapped at his face, forcing him to turn away as ideas flew through the drift.

“Gipsy! We’ll hold it!” Raleigh shouted, struggling to keep them balanced as Otachi’s tail pulled harder. “Vent the coolant on the left flank!”

He reluctantly let the control of his body fall onto them, hoping the strain wasn’t too much for Mako, before announcing, “Venting coolant.”

Gipsy knew the risks of not having adequate amounts of coolant during any sort of strenuous situation but also knew full well that the idea should work, if they did it right. The coolant escaped in a burst of white fog, spraying over the kaiju’s tail as the clawed end kept snapping near his head. It took barely more than twenty seconds before the entire thing was frozen and white, and they wasted no time in yanking their arm down and feeling it shatter.

It barely seemed to notice that its tail was gone, jaws staying clamped tight around his right wrist, but with the other arm free they could manage that. His fingers dug into one of the horns on its nose, gripping tightly and forcing its jaw further open as they started to pull harshly on the slimy organ. With a final tug, it tore free, and for a moment there was a burst of relief.

Then Otachi snarled, blue blood and acidic saliva flying out of its mouth as it bared its teeth at them, before lunging forward and slamming its back paws into his chest. Claws dug deep into his back, sparks flying and metal bending at the pressure, and he barely managed to keep back the scream as the pain flew through him. He could feel the servos and gears near his spine being crushed, struggling to keep it out of the drift, as they were slammed back into the ground.

One paw shifted slightly, claws digging into his shoulder instead, before it opened its jaws again and let out a cry. They had just started to try and move when its front legs shifted, snapping out, and Gipsy suddenly realised why the arms had looked so overly long. They were wings.

The membranes looked thin, almost too thin to lift the creature, but Otachi quickly dashed that hope with a single movement. It only took one flap of the enormous wings before they were lifted off the ground, carried towards the sky. He didn’t know what its plan was but as he was smashed into yet another building any coherent thoughts about what they could do slipped out of his mind. Five years had only made it harder to focus.

They struggled against its grip, fists slamming into its chest before fingers clawed at its face as it flew even higher, but they only seemed to be a nuisance to the kaiju. It shook them roughly, like they were nothing but a rag doll, and the building sense of resignation in Raleigh’s mind wasn’t making focusing any easier. There had to be something left. There had to be.

“Atmosphere loss in progress,” Gipsy reported dutifully, trying to keep his voice even as he struggled to find some way to get them back to the ground alive.

Raleigh reached forward, peering at the readouts before announcing, “Temperature’s dropping! We’re losing oxygen! Both plasma cannons are shot. We’re out of options, Mako.”

“ **No, there’s still something left**!” she insisted, a spike of determination flying through the drift.

He could feel Raleigh’s confusion as Mako quickly changed the settings, selecting the sword attachment, but didn’t have time to worry about explaining as he announced, “Sword deployment.” It was just going to have to suffice.

He couldn’t quite help the hint of excitement as he felt the sword deploy, focusing on the protocols necessary for proper assembly as realisation clicked in his brother’s mind and he followed the thoughts flickering through the drift from Mako. Even if their odds of making it back to the ground alive were decreasing every second it took the sword to articulate, it didn’t stop the pride bubbling in Raleigh’s mind.

“ **For my family** ,” she said, glimpses in the drift making Gipsy’s heart hurt as he realised she wasn’t talking about who he’d seen in their first drift. She was talking about the people she’d lost tonight as well.

The sword sliced quickly through the thin membrane, right alongside Otachi’s torso, before catching for a moment on the bones of its arm. With a final sharp jerk, they tore through the last part of its wing and the claws in his back released. Then there was nothing holding them up and they were hurtling back towards the earth.

“Altitude actuation off-balance,” he reported, relatively sure they were already aware of that fact as they continued to fall towards the ground and the sword retracted. “50,000 feet to ground contact. Altitude loss, critical.”

He could feel the thoughts in the drift, addled by the burning sensation flickering through to them from his body, but none of them were answers. There were ideas and feelings but nothing that would help them get out of this situation in any sort of condition that could be useful.

The comm crackled slightly before Pentecost’s voice came across, ordering, “Gipsy, listen to me! Loosen all the shock absorbers, use your gyroscope as balance and ball up! It’s your only chance!”

“20,000 feet,” he informed them, trying to help them get the commands in place in time.

He’d barely finished speaking before Raleigh shouted, “Fuel purge! Now!”

Gipsy didn’t really think it would help, considering how far up they still were and how fast they were falling, but reluctantly followed the order. It was hard to focus on how strange that felt when pieces of metal were still flaking off his body, ripped away by the heat and the speed, and even before he purged he knew that it wasn’t going to be enough to make the landing even close to bearable for him. The shockwaves alone were going to hurt.

“We’re coming in too fast. We’re coming in too fast! Brace for it!” Raleigh yelled, the surge of concern in the drift almost making Gipsy laugh. Leave it to his brother to worry about his co-pilot and AI first and not seem to realise he’d probably be hurt too.

The impact scattered his sensors for a moment, pain flooding his mind as the shock from the landing rattled up his already damaged legs. He still didn’t understand why it hurt so much, why someone had thought that was a good idea, but he remembered thinking the exact same thing when he’d faced Knifehead. It drew a weak chuckle. Some things never changed.

“Mako, talk to me.” When there wasn’t a reply right away, Raleigh only felt more worried. “Mako, you okay?”

It took her a moment to answer, catching her breath, but when she did she couldn’t help the small smile. “Yeah. You?”

Gipsy gave the two of them a moment to just laugh and catch their breath, more than happy to just start taking account of the amount of damage to his body so they had a chance to repair it when they got back. He had a feeling that they were still going to try Pitfall. They didn’t have any other options.

“I'm fine too, thanks for asking, Rals. Glad to know my brother thought about me,” he joked, reactivating his hologram as Raleigh groaned.

“Shut up, Gips. I knew you’d be alright, you always are,” he muttered as Mako laughed again, the sound just enough to make Raleigh smile despite his brother.

 

It was taking longer than he liked to make sense of what was happening around him, still feeling twitchy and uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t remember. It was like his systems had been scrambled but there was nothing capable of that in the middle of the harbour. And it didn’t explain the low ache in his shoulder.

“Christ, are you finally bloody awake? Took you long enough,” Chuck snapped, tone just as irritated as ever. “You were barely even damaged, for fuck’s sake.”

He squinted at his brother, taking a moment to just think, before asking, “Where’s dad?”

He hesitated before sighing heavily and sinking into one of the chairs as he reluctantly said, “He’s in medical. Broken collarbone, they think. No way he’s gonna be able to pilot if that’s right.”

“Then I guess we’re sort of useless. What happened to me?” Striker asked, tone tired. He never felt tired, it wasn’t in his programming, but that was the only word that seemed to describe the feeling weighing him down. He couldn’t even lift his wings enough to stow them away, the task seeming impossible when he felt the way he did.

“Leatherback had some sorta EMP thing, I dunno. Knocked you out. Hurt like a fucking bitch.” Chuck shrugged, glancing at him with his customary scowl.

The words were enough to trigger a rush of memories, memories of the crackling pain that had shot through his body and into his pilots, and he couldn’t help the small shudder. There hadn’t been anything he could do to try and block it from them. It had all been too fast.

He was glad for Chuck’s stony silence, giving him a chance to regain his focus before he said, “So, Pentecost sent out Gipsy. Rookie and the has-been saved us, huh?”

His shoulders stiffened, expression darkening even more as he ground out, “It don’t change the fact they almost fucking killed all of us. She’s still bloody inexperienced and he’s out of practice. We’re just fucking stuck with them.”

“You were a rookie once. Threw up in your fucking helmet, remember that?” Striker retaliated, tone still tired and distinctly unimpressed. “They saved us. They saved dad. Least you could do is not scowl next time you see them. Maybe, fuck, maybe you can spare them a nod. You don’t gotta like them, Charlie. But they saved us. Maybe we can spare them a little respect.”

“You just have a bloody crush on Danger,” he said, almost like that made everything he’d just heard null and void, before standing. “I’m taking you to the hanger, before you start tryna give anyone else shitty advice.”

“Fuck you very much, my advice is better than yours.”

 

“Kinda lonely up here, huh?”

Gipsy didn’t bother looking up, still staring into the empty bay where Cherno’s body should have been sitting, but muttered, “Just come sit down, Striker.”

“Didn’t know you’d feel up to dealing with me,” he pointed out, still sitting next to the older hologram, wings tucked close to his back to make sure they didn’t breach the space between them. The silence was peaceful for a moment, just the low hum of a Shatterdome at work, before he offered, “’m sorry about my pilot. He’s a prick. And he was bang outta line.”

Gipsy rolled his eyes, asking, “Which time?”

“Any time he opens his bloody mouth, unless his boyfriend’s about to stick a dick in it,” he replied, tone completely serious as he stared out into the empty bay. “’Bout the only time he stops spouting shite, really.”

He just stared at the other AI for a moment, not quite sure how to react, before a short chuckle escaped and he just let the silence settle again. It was sort of nice, even with the events in the harbour and Pitfall looming. The harbour.

“I’m sorry about Cherno,” he said softly, not quite sure how Striker would react but unable to stop the words. “I know you were really happy to meet her.”

He hadn’t been expecting the shrug or the small slightly sad smile as he replied, “Was. But we’re in a goddamn war. Her pilots’ couldn’ta gotten out in time, everyone knows that. Better for her not ta come back after they carked it. Seen what losing one pilot can do. We ain’t meant to survive that and if we do its bloody torture, Gips. You know that better than me.” Striker shot him a small, almost reassuring smile. “Thanks for saving our asses before Leatherback finished us off.”

“You don’t…” He trailed off, not bothering to finish his sentence.  "You aren’t what I expected."

He look slightly offended, muttering, "I know, the hologram’s weird and with the wi—"

"I meant you aren’t a total dick,” Gipsy interrupted, grinning at the surprised look and slight twitch in the wings. “Which, considering your pilots, is a bit of a shock.”

"Herc’s a bit less abrasive than Chuck can be, yanno,” he pointed out. “A bit.”

"Yeah, but neither of them can talk about their issues,” Gipsy said bluntly, regretting the words immediately. It wasn’t like he really had anyone else to talk to.

Striker stood, snorting and gesturing to the sharp scars on his left side. "Neither can you, and you’re walking around with your heart on your bloody sleeve,” he pointed out, tone less amused then it was a few moments ago. “Maybe you should drop the criticism on them till you can open up a touch more.”

Striker was almost at the point of fizzling out when he just heard, “I felt my brother die, Striker. If you aren’t careful, you’ll wind up like me.”

A million comments flickered through his processors, some of them nastier than others, before he settled for, “I’m not gonna wind up like you. I ain’t losing them. I got a plan to get them out, yeah?”

“It’s a plan where you don’t get out, isn’t it?” Gipsy asked, almost instantly, and he couldn’t help the tired chuckle. The new guy knew him better than his pilots.

He hesitated before crossing to him again, not bothering to sit this time as he said, “Losing a pilot ain’t good. Getting one out and leaving the other behind? Wouldn’t be much better for me than losing both of them.”

He didn’t reply for a moment before quietly asking, “How do you know what losing someone can do to us, when you haven’t?”

“Not really your business,” Striker muttered, glancing down at him before looking back where Cherno was meant to be. “Won’t do anyone any good to talk about it.”

“I thought you weren’t a fan of hypocrisy, but here you are. Hmm, predictable,” Gipsy mused, not at all surprised when he got an irritated glare in return. “Maybe you should drop the criticism on me until you can open up a touch more.”

He was surprised by the low chuckle before the younger AI sobered again, grey wings wrapping tighter around his back as he reluctantly answered, “I got an aunt back home. It’s all messed up, family’s weird as fuck. Think you know her though. Lucky. Jus’ a bad RABIT and not having her pilot around fucked her right up, Gips. Don’t fancy that happening to me.”

“Yeah, I remember her! Manilla. She was with Scott most of the night, I think. Was that his name?” At the sharp nod, Gipsy couldn’t help but frown. “She seemed really happy around him.”

Striker didn’t say anything, straightening a little before glancing down the way he came. That was more than enough of an indication of how he felt about continuing to talk about that topic and Gipsy knew he should probably let him go back to his bay or his pilots.

Gipsy’s strong point hadn’t always been doing what he should.

“Sit with me for a bit longer?” he asked softly, looking up a little hopefully.

He wasn’t really expecting him to sit next to him, barely far enough away that their projections weren’t flickering, before a wing carefully extended and curled around him. He couldn’t help the grin that crossed his face before he shifted his hand a little closer, focusing on settling his projection right above Striker’s without any interference in their programs. If he minded, he didn’t move away.

 

When Hypatia was reactivated, she had a very strong feeling that she’d missed a lot. One look around, especially considering the two kaiju corpses, told her she was right. Hermann’s presence and the pons unit only made her feel worse.

“You left me shut down for hours, Geiszler. And you almost got us both killed, again. Why exactly should I help you initiate another drift with another kaiju, especially here without access to my external storage units?” she asked, watching as he prepared to drive another node into the kaiju’s brain.

“Aren’t you meant to like me more or something now?” he replied, tone bordering on levels of squeaky that were normally only achieved with the use of helium. “And you’re gonna help me so we can save the world.”

She shot a disgusted look towards the pons system as she said sarcastically, “Oh, yes, you’re just my only friend. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Geiszler. You’re the only person I care about.”

Before they could get even deeper into an argument, Hermann turned, yelling out to them, “There are two kaiju signatures in the breach, not three like I predicted!”

“Hermann! I haven’t exactly had a very good day, okay? I got about five minutes…” Newt trailed off, teeth grit as he tried to force the node through the kaiju’s skull and into its brain.

“Should be three.”

“…before brain death occurs here!” Newt continued, like his colleague hadn’t said anything. “I don’t wanna spend it talking about your theories!”

“This is all wrong! There should be three kaiju coming through, not two!” Hermann insisted, limping after him as they headed towards the pons system.

He scoffed, slamming Hypatia’s drive into the port as he sniped, “There should be three and there’s two? I’m sorry, it hurts to be wrong.”

He didn’t look impressed, saying irritably, “I am not wrong, but there is something here we don’t understand.”

“And if we don’t understand something, they could be going on a suicide run,” Hypatia added, shooting another disgusted look at the makeshift pons system.

“Okay, Hermann. Hopefully we can argue about any mistakes you made in your predictive model in the future! But in the meantime, the neural interface is way off the charts! If you want to help, help with that!” Newt countered, turning to grab the headpiece.

“Newton, I am not wrong.” Hermann quickly slid on his glasses, typing frantically as he said, “There is only one way to make sure and that is to do this together.”

Newt froze for a moment, trying to process what his colleague just said, as Hypatia groaned, “You have got to be kidding me.”

“I’ll go with you. That’s what the jaeger pilots do, share the neural load,” he insisted, gesturing to the recalibrated screen. “An AI is not enough.”

He turned, expression incredulous, as he asked, “You’re serious? You would do that for me? Or you would do that with me?”

She frowned, echoing, “You’re serious? Hermann, this is a risk. You have a family.”

“Well, with worldwide destruction a certain alternative do I really have a choice?” Hermann asked, tilting his head slightly as he spoke.

“Then say it with me, my man! We’re gonna own this bad boy!” Newt exclaimed, holding up a hand for his colleague.

He looked a little unsure, glancing at the raised hand with an expression Newt couldn’t say he’d seen before, before awkwardly trying to figure out what he was meant to do as he spoke.

“By Jove, we are going to own this thing for sure!”

Hypatia sighed heavily, looking away as he laughed and Hermann set about picking up the other headpiece. She had never understood either of them, not lucky enough to have the advantage of the drift, but she knew how much Hermann cared about Vanessa and their baby. She also knew what would happen if they didn’t stop the kaiju.

He had never been a kaiju groupie like Newt, but if the drift might help save the world and keep them and everyone else safe, there was no chance he would back out. She could grudgingly respect him, but it didn’t mean she had to like this. He had enough problems without the neural strain from the drift.

“You ready for this?” Newt asked once they were set up, gripping the controller tighter than last time.

“Oh, yes, yes,” Hermann reassured at the same moment she sniped, “No one’s ever ready for a neural bridge with a kaiju.”

He didn’t seem to be paying attention to her, which was rather par for the course, as he said, “Initiating neural handshake in five… four… three… two… one.”

The drift was just as confusing as the first one. At first it was all Hermann and Newt, memories crashing and overlapping, and that was manageable. Her protocol were designed for two people, two human minds melding and working together. It was the kaiju that was the problem. The voice was louder, impressions and images flickering through faster and faster as the drift only strengthened. Then it was cutting out and she only hoped they’d found what they were looking for this time. There was no way they could do that again.

Newt coughed, struggling to get the headpiece off as he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied, undoing the strap around his neck with relative ease. “I’m completely fine.”

It was almost believable for a moment until he retched, barely scrambling to the conveniently there toilet before he vomited. Even in her disoriented state, she couldn’t help but feel a moment of gratitude that the worst she got from the drift was the AI version of a headache and some misplaced files. As Newt finally freed himself from his headpiece and hurried over to pass Hermann something to wipe his mouth with, her gratitude silently changed to being focused on the fact she wasn’t human. Being human seemed to have more downside than upsides.

“The drift. You saw it?” Hermann asked, small cloth still hovering near his face as he spoke. “Did you?”

Newt nodded slightly, the most irritating spike of worry for his boyfriend flying through the ghost drift as he said, “Yeah. Listen, we have to warn them. The jaegers—The breach—The plan”

“It’s not going to work,” Hermann supplied.

 

By the time their drives had been collected and taken up to LOCCENT, Striker couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of panic. The fact they had both been sent for told him a lot, including the fact there was going to be a drop. A glance at the screen told him everything else and only made him worry more.

There were two Category IV kaiju and two jaegers. The last time any had crawled out of the breach two teams had died and that was above water. Striker glanced over to see Gipsy looked about as hopeful as he felt and something in his chest clenched.

He couldn’t stop himself stepping forward, standing as close as he possibly could without interfering with the projection. Striker didn’t even understand where it came from, the need for proximity, and silently blamed his pilots. It was a human thing. That explained it well enough.

Gipsy offered him a small smile, pain in his eyes, before he said, “We need to go. Find our pilots and get ready.”

“I know,” he reassured, reaching up to try and imitate stroking his cheek. It worked well enough for now and he smiled at the slightly taller AI. “We got another minute.”

He bit his lip, glancing towards the ground, before muttering, “I love you.”

The look on his face made him want to say it right back, made something in his chest clench, but a memory that wasn’t his own insisted it was too soon. They were probably going to die in only a few hours. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t say it.

“No you don’t, darlin’,” Striker murmured, so glad that the hurt look he was expecting never appeared.

He chuckled, eyes on the brink of pixelated tears, as he sniped, "I might if you actually get back here."

He forced a grin, fondly asking, "Did Becket make ya a sap or was your programming just shite?"

"Striker," Gipsy said, tone warning as he took a step back. "Just get back here."

"Same for you, sap," he murmured, glancing over when he heard his brother whistle.

It wasn’t the most polite way of getting attention, but it did work. Striker sighed, looking back over and forcing a small grin. Gipsy didn’t seem to be too irritated by the interruption, smiling sadly back at him before flickering out. He jogged over to Chuck, trying to ignore the look in his eyes.

“Time to suit up, Charlie?” he asked, following him down towards the main floor of the dome. “We don’t got long until the drop.”

Chuck rolled his eyes, grip tightening on Max’s leash, as he muttered, “And we don’t got no co-pilot. We can’t pilot alone, tests fucking prove that.”

“There’s gotta be someone in the goddamn place that can stand being in your skull. I managed just fine for five years, sure someone else can handle it for a few hours,” Striker retaliated, trying to get his brother’s mind focused on something else. Complete and utter irritation with him wasn’t great, but it was better than whatever he was undoubtedly thinking about already. “Maybe if you reign in the utter douchebaggery for a bit, it’ll go better.”

He shot him a glare. “That ain’t even a fucking word. Help me find Elvis, you prick.”

He rolled his eyes, gesturing vaguely towards where he thought Tendo would likely be, before following Chuck as he stalked in that direction. He didn’t need the ghost drift to know what his brother was thinking but it did help. The irritation and confusion was clear in the simple fact he hadn’t suited up yet.

“Oi, Tender!” Chuck shouted, tugging on Max’s lead as the dog snuffled at one of the people walking past. “Tendo!”

He knew it wasn’t the right time but Striker couldn’t hold back a small snicker, smirking at his brother as he informed him, “You called him Tender, Charlie. Tender. Tender Tendo.”

He stopped short, grip lessening on Max’s lead as he spat, “If you tell a fucking single person I will erase your program, you little prick.”

“I love you too, fuckhead,” he muttered, following him towards the slightly confused LOCCENT master. “And, just so you know, the fucking whole of scramble alley probably heard you.”

Tendo frowned, glancing at the two of them as he said, “You aren’t suited up.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, Elvis. We need to know what’s going on,” Chuck insisted.

“He said suit up, so suit up,” he said simply, not sounding particularly interested in continuing to talk about it.

He turned as Tendo started to walk towards Gipsy’s team, dragging off his cap as he asked, “Tendo, I can’t pilot Striker on my own, now, can I? Dad’s hurt, so who’s gonna be our co-pilot?”

Before he could reply they heard the distinctive sound of the doors to scramble alley opening, the whole group turning to look. Striker could feel his surprise echoed in the ghost drift when they saw Pentecost, suited up in a black drivesuit, with Herc walking a few steps behind him. He wasn’t sure how his brother would react to that, react to someone who had been out of service for so long piloting with him, but he could reluctantly admit that it made more sense than sending in any of the rookies. At least Pentecost had piloted before.

“I don’t remember it being so tight,” he said, pulling a little at one of the metal plates.

Striker stepped aside a little as he walked past, glancing towards his father before murmuring to Chuck, “Go talk to him. You know how he gets. Probably wants to talk strategy or some shit.”

His shoulders stiffened a little but he reluctantly stepped towards Herc, grip tightening on Max’s leash as they started to speak in low voices. He knew they weren’t saying goodbye. That’s not how the family worked, it never had been. Arguing was how they communicated and he was their mediator. That was just the way they’d always managed.

 

He had hung back while Chuck and Pentecost had spoken, pretty aware that he wasn’t needed in the conversation. The second he’d heard his brother ask how they were supposed to match up, he’d accepted that he was going to get put in his place. The spike of irritation, followed by a burst of resignation and acceptance, told him he was definitely right. He’d already accepted Pentecost was their only choice. If Chuck had too, the entire process would be far simpler.

Striker hadn’t planned to stick around long enough to see his family say goodbye, like Chuck genuinely thought he wasn’t coming back. Like he thought he wouldn’t be able to get him home this time, like he always had before. He’d just been meaning to slink past before Herc could notice him, but the moment Chuck was back on his feet he knew he’d mistimed it.

“Striker.”

He winced slightly at the sound of his father’s voice, stopping in his tracks and reluctantly turning to face him. Chuck walked past him, gripping his helmet so tightly Striker was almost worried he’d manage to break it, emotions turbulent and battering against him in their ghost drift. They didn’t have time for this. They didn’t have time for any of this.

“It’s alright, old man. You don’t gotta tell me. I’ll get Charlie home. Always do,” he said, forcing a weak grin at Herc as he tried to stop his wings from drooping. He had to be strong. The mission was more important than his emotions.

Herc’s eyes were still watery, something he’d never wanted to see, as he gruffly ordered, “Both of you get back. Lucky needs you.”

Striker wanted to reassure him it would be fine but they knew each other better than that. They always had. Herc could spot him lying before the words even formed. It was one of the less pleasant side effects of being built out of parts of his mind.

“I’m just pixels. You’ll still have Lucks and your son. I’ll make sure of it.” He couldn’t make the grin last, barely getting out, “I won’t let you lose your boy as well. I’ll get him home, Herc. That’s my job.”

He didn’t give him the chance to argue, well aware that it wouldn’t make anything easier, and turned to follow his brother. He’d get him home and finish the mission, just like he’d always planned to. Pentecost’s presence didn’t change anything. He’d get him out too.

“Stacker. That’s my sons you got there,” Herc called, voice more pained than he probably ever meant. “My sons.”

Striker had been waiting to hear that one word for near five years. Sons. It was just the patented Hansen bad timing that it happened right when he was trying to dissociate from that. He'd been stupid to ever let his emotions get as far as they had. Herc was his pilot, not his father. His loyalty was to his mission, not to his emotions. It couldn’t matter anymore.

"Striker. You good or not?" Chuck asked, almost like everything was normal, and he steeled his resolve. He had to make this work.

He didn't even glance at Pentecost as he ran the pre-mission protocols, shooting the same fake grin at Chuck as he promised, "I'm fine, you little prick. Let's jus' get this done. We got a bomb to deploy."

Pentecost didn’t seem to approve of their banter, even before the drift started. Striker wasn’t surprised. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing he’d want to hear right before the beginning of one of the most important missions PPDC would ever undertake. Even Herc had never approved of it, and that was just when it was the regular kind of drops, not something as enormous as an attack on the breach.

The drift was different than what he’d expected, emptier than anything he’d ever felt, but when they came out of it the connection seemed strong enough for the mission. It had to be strong enough for the mission to work out. It was their last chance.

“Systems ready for drop, sir. Initiate at your discretion,” he offered, hoping that was professional enough.

If Chuck’s resigned sigh was anything to judge by, it might have been a little too much.

 

Everything was running as smoothly as a suicide mission on the bottom of the ocean could be expected to go at first. Visibility was utterly terrible, conversation was even worse, but there were still only two kaiju guarding the breach. They could manage two kaiju, in theory, or at least for long enough to get the bomb through the throat and into the other world.

Chuck was his usual cheerful self the entire walk, complaining about the visibility and asking questions that no one bothered trying to answer. His job was to walk and, later on, fight. Yelling wasn’t actually part of it, but he didn’t seem to notice and if he did, he didn’t care.

He only started to say something useful when he reached up, comming Gipsy and saying, “Eyes on the prize, you lot. 600 meters from the drop.” Maybe not the most polite, but marginally more useful than complaints about the visibility.

Striker was in the lead and took the jump first, the landing a lot less jarring than he expected considering how far they fell. Either his pain sensors were still playing up after the harbour battle or the water had helped far more than he’d through it could. Gipsy landed right behind them as they finished straightening up, both teams just standing for a moment as they checked their instruments.

“400 meters and closing,” Chuck reported as they started to move again, heading straight towards the breach.

Things still seemed to be going well until Herc’s voice came over the comm, saying quickly, “Striker! Bogeys are stopping. One o’clock.”

He wasn’t sure why they stopped, prepared to try and run towards the breach, but Pentecost was the dominant pilot and he had more control. The confusion that was slowly building towards panic was welling in Chuck’s end of the drift and all his focus went to keeping that under control so the connection wouldn’t be risked. They had to make this mission go according to plan.

“Marshal, what are you doing?” Chuck asked, voice on the brink of shouting already.

“They’re stopping.” Pentecost said, focus on the instruments and readings on the screen. “Why the hell are they stopping?”

“I don’t give a damn, sir! We’re 300 meters from the jump!” he yelled, gesturing to the ocean floor, and Striker could feel the determination bubbling up.

He didn’t seem swayed, insisting, “Something’s not right!”

Herc’s voice cut in, informing them, “Striker, the bogeys aren’t following. Take the leap now.”

There was some sort of disturbance in LOCCENT before Newt’s voice cut in, higher than ever as he said, “Blowing up the breach, it’s not gonna work!”

Striker tried to ignore the burst of his emotions from his brother, a jolt of happiness and irritation just like what he always felt when Newt appeared, followed by confusion and a mounting sense of panic. The trick of infusing the drift with calm had stopped working in the first year. All his turbulent emotions were doing was making keeping the drift stable even more difficult.

“What do you mean? What’s not going to work?” Pentecost asked, ignoring the two Hansens in the conn pod with him.

“Just because the breach is open does not mean you’re going to be able to get a bomb through,” he explained, the one sentence dashing all their plans.

Hermann cut in, continuing, “The breach genetically reads the kaiju like a barcode at the supermarket and then lets them pass.”

Newt kept talking almost the second his colleague had stopped, blurting, “You’re gonna have to fool the breach into thinking that you have the same code!”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Raleigh asked, tone heading straight for annoyed.

“By making it think you are a kaiju,” he said, like it was the simplest explanation in the world.

Hermann took up the explanation again, saying, “You have to lock onto a kaiju, ride it into the breach. The throat will then read the kaiju’s genetic code and let you pass.”

He quickly said, “If you don’t do it, the bomb will deflect off the breach like it always has and the mission will fail.”

Chuck was giving the comm a truly exasperated look when Herc took the mic back, snapping, “All right. Now that you’ve heard all that, Striker, take the leap!” There was a pause for barely a moment before the comm crackled again and he added, “Third signature emerging from the breach.”

“How big is it? What category?” Pentecost asked, glancing over at his co-pilot briefly before looking back up at the comm.

The pause was longer this time, even more worrying, before Herc said, “Striker, it’s a Category V. The first ever.”

They were still standing on the edge of the drop and Striker could almost feel the water displacement as the creature moved. Category V, almost like they’d known they were coming. Newt would have a field day if he ever heard that, he just knew it.

The kaiju was massive, stopping in front of them once it was out of the breach with the clear intention to stop them. The sting blades slid out quickly, flicking into place before they lifted his arms and fell into something that wasn’t quite their usual fighting stance. Pentecost was different. His technique and style were different. It was only going to make things more difficult.

“Striker, we see him. We’re right behind you, about 100 meters,” Raleigh said over the comm, the older jaeger still moving forward. “We’re gonna come around your 3 o’clock, try to flank him. Standard two-team formation. Just keep him busy for a few—”

His voice abruptly cut out, making Striker guess one of the other kaiju had gone for them while he’d been distracted, before his attention was jerked back to the kaiju facing them. It drew itself up, what appeared to be tentacles twisting and spinning as it moved, and he realised what was happening a second too late to do anything.

“Brace for impact!” Pentecost ordered just before the tentacles slammed into his chest, knocking them back and making them slide across the ocean floor until he hit a rock.

Things weren’t going much better for Gipsy. They had managed to catch Scunner by the horns when it had rushed them and slammed it into the ground, although his head still felt strange from headbutting the creature.

“Chain sword, deployed,” he announced, tightening his grip on one horn slightly more.

They were just drawing back his arm when the other kaiju swam up behind them, jaws clenching shut around the metal and not even pausing. The pain was almost worse than what he felt when Knifehead took his left, sharp and sudden and making him topple forward as Raleigh yelled.

His grip on Scunner failed as he tried to ignore the ache in his systems, trying to find some way to block any water from getting in through the wound. He could hear Mako yelling, asking if he was alright, but before he could teeth were tearing into his leg and he could hear the pained sounds from both of them. Sword. They had to get the sword out now. They just managed to slam it back into the ground as the other sword engaged, driving the sharp metal right through its head the second they could.

“Let’s get this son of a bitch!” Raleigh yelled, the idea flickering through the drift as Scunner tried to claw at them.

The three of them managed to drag it over to one of the glowing holes in the ground, struggling to keep it in place as the side of its face was burned off and its claws raked against his remaining arm. After a moment it broke free, blue blood floating in the water and making a trail as it spun away from the jaeger, screeching and clawing at the water as Gipsy’s leg gave out and they fell to his knees.

They’d just planted the tip of their sword in the ground, starting to push up, when Herc’s voice came across the mercifully undamaged comm. “Gipsy, coming up on your 12 o’clock! Full speed! Get outta the way!”

They all knew that wasn’t going to happen fast enough with his leg in the condition it was, settling on an idea in the few moments they had. They threw his good arm out just in time, sword catching Raiju in the face.  Its own momentum carried it forward even as the metal sliced through its flesh and all they had to do was try and hold up against the pressure until it stopped moving or they cut all the way through. In the end, the blade sliced clean through the entire creature, the two halves of its body floating forward for a little longer before falling to the ground behind he as he fell forward onto his knees again.

“The release is jammed! We can’t deliver the payload, sir!” Chuck shouted as they pushed back up, continuing to flick through the readings his brother was showing him. “We’re still armed. But the hull is compromised! Half our systems are offline, sir.”

Pentecost started to speak, reaching up to start a protocol as he said, “We need to—”

Before he could finish his sentence the kaiju was back, slamming into them with its whole body and shoving them back through another rock formation. They couldn’t get a hit in before it slammed them into the ground, the movement so forceful that it flipped the pair of them over. It wasn’t the most pleasant sensation but that didn’t matter when it gave them a chance.

The sting blade slid across the kaiju’s throat, making it reel back for a second before its claws slammed into his side again and they were subjected to another spin. They managed to drive the one blade up under its chin when its head ducked down for a moment before it threw him off and gave them the perfect opening.

They pushed forward, slamming the blades into the kaiju’s side, and forcing them in as deeply as they could under its arms. Not for the first time, Striker couldn’t help but wish the blades were a bit longer, but if they finished the mission they wouldn’t need them anymore. They held them there as long as they could, twisting slightly to widen the wounds as they forced the blades as deep as they could manage, before ripping his arms back and watching it sink to the ground. Its arms looking like they were barely connected to the body after that.

Before they could try again to decapitate it, the kaiju lifted its head and let out a roar. He couldn’t hear it, not like he’d been able to with Otachi, but there was no question that it had some sort of reason. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was killing it so they could figure out what to do about the bomb.

“Hang on, Striker! We’re coming to you!” Raleigh said into the comm, voice laboured and pained.

“No! Gipsy! Do not come to our aid!” Pentecost ordered, plan forming quickly. “Do you copy?”

“Hang on!” Raleigh repeated, still struggling to move forward with Gipsy’s damaged limbs.

He didn’t budge on the matter, insisting, “Stay as far back as you can!”

He spared an incredulous look for the comm, ignoring the wave of calm Gipsy pushed through the drift, and said, “We can still reach you. We’re coming for you.”

“No, Raleigh, listen to me.” He glanced over at Chuck, checking he was starting the sequence, before yelling, “You know exactly what you have to do! Gipsy is nuclear! Take him to the breach!”

“I hear you, sir. Heading for the breach. Now,” Raleigh said, glancing over at Mako as he resigned himself to what had to be done. They had to close the breach, or else all the deaths over the years meant nothing.

Striker tried not to listen as Pentecost said goodbye to his daughter, silently trying to determine if they were close enough to the surface that Chuck’s pod would have a chance of surviving. They weren’t going to the breach. He didn’t have to die too. None of them had to die, expect for an AI and they weren’t really alive anyway. Just lines of code and particles of light. They could live and he could finish their mission.

The small burst of affirmation from Pentecost confused him for a moment, not used to the sensation from anyone other than Herc, but as they turned to face the kaiju again it clicked. He had seen the plan. He was willing to help with it. Of course he was, it would save one of his friend’s sons.

“Wha—” Chuck started, already sure of the answer to his question, but before he could properly voice it Pentecost was commanding, “Striker, eject now.”

He didn’t waste a moment, quickly starting the command sequence as a burst of confusion flew through the drift and he barely got out, "Sorry, Charlie. Just orders."

Chuck didn’t even get time to protest before he was moving, lifted into his escape pod and jettisoned as quickly as Striker could manipulate his systems. There was no time for lengthier goodbyes.

“Sir, suggest you do the same.” He couldn’t quite hold back the swell of resignation, the realisation he couldn’t get all of them out. Him or Pentecost. It had to be Pentecost. “I can detonate just fine, don’t need you here for that. There’s treatments. Things you can do.”

“We have no time for this.” His voice was as commanding as ever, still calm despite everything, but the wisps in the drift told a completely different story.

“Then just let me fucking do this! My father always said if you got a shot, you take it. And I got a shot of getting you back,” Striker snapped, already setting about triggering the override for the escape pod. “I made a promise.”

“I know,” Pentecost said, voice still as firm as it had been at the beginning of the mission. “I mean to ensure you keep it. Striker Eureka, transmit back to base. Transfer control to manual.”

For a second, Striker thought he could ignore the commands, well aware his protocol would allow him to do that to protect his pilot, before Pentecost continued, “Override authorization, Marshal Stacker Pentecost.”

He didn’t even have time to argue or say anything before he lost control of his body, appearing in LOCCENT within seconds of the override code. He could still feel the grind of his damaged body, the movement of hydraulics, and if he strained he could just feel Pentecost’s mind. He had to go back. He had to help.

“What the hell is going on down there?” Herc growled, rounding on him as he finished materialising.

“Clearing a path,” he said lowly, the sudden rush of cold telling him it was over. “Clearing a path, for Gips.”

 

The shockwave from the explosion had almost knocked him over again, the only thing that kept him from tumbling away the sword planted in the ground. Everything seemed strange when they looked around again, the water that smashed into him from behind a moment later answering the unspoken question. The explosion had displaced or vaporised most of the water.

“All systems critical. Fluid loss,” he said, struggling to focus as the diagnostic ran. “Rals. We have to be fast. Fuel’s leaking. My leg may as well be gone. You need to hurry, before life support fucks up too.”

“Let’s finish this,” Raleigh said, meeting Mako’s eyes before glancing over to where his brother’s drive was. “LOCCENT, we have the kaiju carcass. We’re heading for the breach.”

It was even more difficult to walk with Raiju’s carcass being dragged behind them, right knee sparking and constantly on the point of giving out. He couldn’t even block most of the pain from the drift, just trying to dampen it as much as he could as they struggled to keep walking.

“You guys better be right. Because one way or another, we’re getting this thing done,” Raleigh managed as they kept limping along, trusting Gipsy to leave the comm link open.

They kept moving, going as fast as they could towards the final drop, as Gipsy tried to keep his life support systems running. There was no point in trying to finish the mission if his pilots died before they even got into the breach. Just as they reached the edge of the cliff the heavily burned and injured Category V landed in front of them, letting out a roar as it guarded the drop.

“On my count, rear jets! Gips, this is it, just a bit longer! Three… two… one… Now!”

He activated the jets, releasing their grip on the carcass as they were propelled towards Slattern. He slammed into him hard, activating the sword and driving it straight through a ridge on its back. They kept going forward, knocking Slattern back with them, and toppled down towards the breach. For a few moments, it looked like it would work.

Tentacles with bony ends slammed into his back, tearing through the metal plating and into the important innards. He could barely think straight, struggling to block any of the pain from the drift and keep his systems running, and could feel something else going wrong but couldn’t do anything to help. He could barely stay awake.

“Hold on, Mako!” Raleigh yelled, selecting the command for the heat shaft purge. “I’m gonna burn this son of a bitch!”

The new burst of active protocol only made things more difficult but he didn’t say anything, dedicating all his focus to Mako. He could feel her oxygen levels dropping but couldn’t reroute it, barely able to concentrate enough to help hold his arm steady as Slattern pushed as his chest and struggled.

The kaiju finally stilled as they kept falling, but it wasn’t the only thing that felt different. He could feel he was still falling, but nothing felt right. His systems screamed at him, scanners going haywire, and he could only guess that they had made it through the breach. It was the only thing that made the readings make sense and that was enough reason to withdraw the sword. They didn’t need Slattern if they were inside.

“Oxygen main, left hemisphere, critical levels. Operating at fifteen percent capacity. We need to eject her pod,” he said, trying to focus enough to start the sequence.

Raleigh glanced over, eyes landing on the pump connected to Mako’s drivesuit, before reaching over and carefully unplugging it. Gipsy didn’t get a chance to argue, too focused on trying to get the escape pod to respond, as Raleigh unplugged his own supply and clicked it into Mako’s suit. The small gasp as oxygen flooded her helmet only made him work faster at trying to make the escape sequence start.

“It’s okay, Mako. We did it. I can finish this alone. All I have to do is fall. Anyone can fall,” he reassured softly, reaching up to gently rest his hand on her helmet before pulling back. “Gips. Escape pod. Now. Then you transmit back.”

He finally got the sequence started, silently hoping the breach would let the pod through as Mako was enclosed in it. There was still one more pod to come, if things went right. They needed the breach to let them back through.

Raleigh reached forward, starting the detonation sequence as he gasped, “Gipsy. Transmit back. I can finish this.”

“I’m not losing my brother. Not again.” His words carried no bite, a simple statement of fact. Yancy was bad enough. He wouldn’t survive losing two siblings.

He felt a burst of irritation in the drift, irritation and fondness mixing and blurring until they were one conjoined emotion. Gipsy wished that he could initiate the reactor override himself, but it was one of his few systems that had a failsafe. One pilot and the AI, if active, had to simultaneously trigger the command in case an AI was damaged and initiated the wrong protocol. It had never been an issue for Gipsy before now.

“LOCCENT, if you can still hear me, we’re initiating reactor override now,” Raleigh managed, trying to save as much oxygen as he could. He didn’t have much left.

“Rals. Oh god, Rals, it’s broken. Manual override. I can’t help you,” he said, voice barely loud enough to be heard. He couldn’t get his brother out.

He groaned before disengaging from his harness, staggering to the wall and snatching Gipsy’s drive free before continuing to the override switch. The second the drive was pulled free, his brother deactivated, leaving him well and truly alone to finish the mission. He could do that.

Raleigh stumbled, barely able to catch himself before he fell into the rapidly spinning disk mere centimetres from his feet. His grip on Gipsy’s drive tightened, other hand gripping a grill on the floor tightly, before he awkwardly dragged himself back onto solid ground. The hatch he needed was only another meter away and he quickly opened it, reaching in to trigger the manual override.

 “Manual override initiated,” he said, barely able to get the words out as his lungs burned. “Core meltdown in T-minus 60.”

The walk back to his harness was almost more difficult than the walk away, breath laboured as he clicked his boots into place and swapped Gipsy’s drive into his other hand. They could finish this and they could get home. All he needed was a few more seconds.

 

Raleigh didn't want to move right away. It was so comforting just to be there with Mako, to know they'd gotten out okay, but he knew they had to move. The choppers were waiting for them. They had to go back to the dome.

He reached up, lightly brushing Mako's soaked hair off her face, before leaning back and glancing around. People were waiting for them. He almost didn't see the other pod bobbing in the water, head snapping back around so fast his neck ached when he realised what the shape was.

"Mako. Is that...?" he trailed off, not getting the chance to finish his sentence before she leapt back into the water, cutting through the weak waves towards the pod.

He followed her the second his legs responded, a little less graceful but at least he wasn't sinking. They had to get to the pod. There was a chance whoever was in it could still be alive. Even if it was Pentecost, they could at least get them back to medical.

Mako was already on the pod, trying to force the hatch open when he arrived, eyes drawn to the dented and damaged side. It was crumpled in and broken, maybe just from the shock wave of the explosion, and the edge looked sharp and jagged. It took a minute to realise what he was really looking at, but when he lightly touched the damaged area it clicked.

"Mako. That's his arm," he got out, drawing his hand back at the feel of the decimated drivesuit. It had to be. It wasn't the metal of the pod. "It's gone through his arm."

She paused slightly, hands stilling from the desperate scrabble to get the hatch open, before she said, "I can't get it open. It's too damaged."

"Let me help," he blurted, trying to get a grip on the broken release switch and open it. "We need medical, now. He could be alive."

She nodded quickly, shifting over a little so he could get a hand onto the hatch and the two of them could finally pry it open. Water trickled out, water that didn’t bode well for anything, as Mako busied herself removing the man’s helmet. From his position floating in the water, Raleigh could just make out Chuck’s messy hair and blood-stained face. That realisation made his stomach drop. He might not have made it to the surface alive.

“Is he breathing?” Raleigh asked, keeping a firm grip on the side of the pod as he bobbed in the water.

Mako tossed the helmet into the water, leaning over to listen for his breathing, and Raleigh couldn’t help but hope. Herc had lost enough of his family. The least the world could do was let him keep his son.

She listened for another moment before sitting back up, glancing over at him as he said, “It is shallow, but there. He needs to go to medical but he might live.”

“That’s good enough for me.” He glanced back up, trying to find the helicopters that had been circling.

“He’s going to lose his arm, if you are right,” she informed him gravely, looking down at the mangled side of the pod.

Raleigh nodded, already aware of that, before insisting, “He’s going to live. That’s good enough for me, Mako. And I’m pretty sure it’ll be good enough for Herc, and maybe even Hansen. He’s still got his life.”

Now all they had to do was wait for the helicopters so they could get back.

 

By the time they returned to the dome, Raleigh wanted to do nothing more but collapse in his room and not come out until Tendo forced him. Even with his insomnia, he felt like he could sleep for a week and the idea was more appealing the longer he thought about it. Mako didn’t look nearly as tired as he probably did, but he could feel a mixture of happiness and grief and exhaustion echoing in their ghost drift. The feedback only made it all feel stronger.

“Wait. I need to see Tendo.” Raleigh glanced over at his co-pilot, softly asking, “Do you mind? If you want, I can come see you after.”

She offered him a small smile, reaching over to rest a hand on his forearm as she shook her head. “I would like to rest. Perhaps tomorrow.”

He didn’t push, reaching over to tuck damp hair behind her ear again before turning and breaking into a jog. His body ached with exhaustion and residual pain from the battle but he needed to catch Tendo before he left LOCCENT. He was one of the only people Raleigh trusted with his brother’s program.

Tendo had only just stood up when Raleigh got there, an empty mug in his hand as always but the hints of a relieved smile on his face. Just the hints were enough to make him smile as he jogged across the space, slinging an arm around his shoulders and holding out the small device for him.

“I have to run to medical for screening. Wake Gips up for me?” he asked hopefully, squeezing Tendo’s shoulders gently. “You know he’ll panic if it’s anyone else.”

He took the device and plugged it into a port as he shook his head, chuckling, “Becket boy, why do I get the feeling he’s in a mood with you?”

Raleigh aimed for an innocent smile, pulling Tendo a little closer in a sort of hug before releasing his friend. The LOCCENT master definitely had an amused look on his face as he sat down again, starting a quick diagnostic on Gipsy’s program as Raleigh jogged back out of the room. He knew the brothers well enough to recognise that he was trying to avoid being in the room when Gipsy woke up. He couldn’t really be mad about it, though. He’d always liked spending a bit of time with the AI.

Gipsy’s hologram flickered worryingly before solidifying, eyes roaming over the space around him in utter confusion for a few moments. Tendo didn’t push, content to wait until everything had fallen into place for his friend, and was halfway to the door when it finally clicked for the AI.

“Raleigh fucking Becket, did you seriously shut me down? In the middle of fucking Pitfall?” Gipsy snapped, whirling around to search for his brother and only seeing his friend’s retreating back. “Tendo! Where the hell is my brother? Do you know what he pulled? He’s so—So—So grounded!”

He chuckled, heading out of the room to give the AI a few moments to vent and calm down. Normally, Gipsy would appreciate some time to just yell, but he couldn’t help but notice the fact that Striker’s display device was right next to his but the other hologram was nowhere in sight.

“Striker, are you really doing this?” he asked, voice softer than before. “I’m not that scary when I’m mad, am I?”

There was a small flicker before Striker was there, wings twitching nervously as he muttered, “You’re never scary, mate. Just didn’t know if you’d wanna see me in the middle of a bloody rant.”

It took a minute for why he was acting so nervous to click, to make any form of sense, and when it did Gipsy couldn’t help his bright grin. They’d just saved the world and fought off two Category IVs and on Category V and this was what had him worried. He just didn’t understand his priorities.

“I love you. That’s alright to say now, right?” He sidled closer to the other AI, not missing the way his wings fluttered.

Striker cleared his throat, glancing away as he said, “Love you too, you fucking sap. Think we’re gonna be stuck up here for a bit. That lot is busy in medical, and all.”

He shrugged, not able to wipe the stupid smile off his face as he cheerfully said, “That’s alright. More time I can spend with you.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t turn away fast enough to hide the smile pulling up his lips, or the dimples that accompanied it. They’d just saved the world. Gipsy had the right to be just a little over-happy, in his opinion. Striker could be grumpy and awkward all he wanted.

 

By the time they had finished her check-up and told her to take it easy over the next few days, Mako was starting to feel genuinely exhausted. Her muscles ached even more than they had after the harbour battle and all she really wanted to do was go back to her quarters. She was about to start heading towards the exit when she heard a name she wasn’t expecting. And from what she managed to catch, it sounded like he was alive.

It took almost ten minutes to convince the doctor’s to let her see him, ten minutes and a lot of explanation. They were friends, they’d known each other for years. All Mako wanted to do was see if he was going to be alright. When she got into the room, she wasn’t sure it was such a good idea.

Hu had a bandage wrapped tight around his head, his left arm covered in plaster as he slept. The device for his AI was gripped tightly in a lightly bandaged hand, red light just visible between his fingers, and it took a moment to understand. She hadn’t heard about any of the Wei triplets surviving before she’d left to complete Pitfall.  Judging by the fact they had only mentioned Hu and there was no sign of his brothers, maybe only one of them had.

Mako sighed heavily, crossing to the chair next to the bed and sitting down. She was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to sleep, but she didn’t want her friend to be alone when he woke up. Maybe having someone with him would help slightly.

She reached over, gently running her knuckles over his cheek as she said softly, “It’s over now. When you wake up, we will not need to fight any more.”

Hu mumbled quietly in his sleep, tilting his head into the touch and drawing a small smile. He had always done that. It was a relief to still have him, to still have one of her oldest and most supportive friends. They could help each other. That’s what they’d always done.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is slightly more disjointed than the others. I didn't have time to write every single day covered by it, so it's just the bits that are relevant. Hope that doesn't bother anyone.

**_January 9, 2025_ **

Raleigh hesitated near the door, tightening his grip on the tray in his hand before lightly rapping his knuckles on the doorframe. Herc jerked up in his seat, making a pained sound as the movement jostled his shoulder, before turning to squint blearily towards the door.

His voice was gravelly and rough with sleep as he asked, “Raleigh? Whaddya doing here?”

“I got you something to eat,” he said, holding up the tray a little more. “Mako said you’ve been in here all day.”

“You didn’t haveta do that, mate,” Herc murmured, fiddling with the strap of his sling.

He shrugged, crossing to the room and gently setting the tray down on his lap. Chuck looked the same as he had last time he’d visited, most of his body obscured by thick blankets and with a tube coming out of his mouth so he could breathe. Even under the heavy fabric, Raleigh could tell one of his legs was definitely in a cast and that his arm was missing. He hadn’t wanted to be right about the arm, but at least he was still alive.

Raleigh sunk into the chair next to Herc, not sure if he was welcome but asking, “Has there been any progress? Or any test results back?”

He sighed heavily, poking at the food on the tray with a small scowl as he muttered, “No. It’s only been five days. Doc said he might not wake up for a few more weeks. Or he might not bloody wake up at all.”

“He’s stubborn. He’ll wake up and try and boss you around.” He tried for a weak grin, not surprised when it wasn’t returned.

Herc stabbed at his potatoes before setting the tray on the ground, lapsing into silence as he looked at his sleeping son. Raleigh couldn’t imagine how it felt to actually have a family member right there, looking like they were just asleep if it wasn’t for the bandages and tubes. Chuck could wake up or he could die in his sleep. The waiting was torturous.

“You don’t gotta keep coming down. Don’t you got other things to worry about?” Herc asked, voice gruff and tired.

Raleigh shrugged, picking at a loose thread on his sweater as he said, “I’m not here all the time but you need to eat, sir. I can go if you’d like and I won’t argue. I’m still going to bring you dinner tonight if you don’t fetch food yourself.”

He didn’t look particularly impressed, his expression verging on uncomfortable, but he didn’t try and force him to leave either. They didn’t say anything, but that was alright. Silence wasn’t the most enjoyable thing for Raleigh but the simple fact he wasn’t being told to leave made his heart a little warmer. Maybe Herc didn’t really mind him coming to visit.

 

Hypatia had been more than happy to just return to her lab and sit around while everything was sorted. She’d be shut down at the conclusion of the kaiju investigations or she’d be sent to another scientist to work with them. The second option was far more appealing but she had no say in the matter. She was purely programmed, not created by a drift. Her say in most things was extremely limited.

That was how she wound up sitting in LOCCENT while the most bumbling and moronic AI she’d ever had the misfortune of meeting pulled apart her program to look for errors. Normally, she was relatively sure on the techs would be in charge of that but none of them seemed to be available. Too much to do now they had to figure out the use of the PPDC.

“Stop that. You clearly no idea what you’re doing, you stupid little idiot,” she snapped, hologram starting to unravel at the edges. “As if Geiszler’s ridiculous drift experiment didn’t do enough damage, I now have to be subjected to you riffling through my programming.”

Will frowned, fixing his useless glasses again as he insisted, “I know what I’m doing. It’s not difficult, alright. You just have a lot of damage and—ah!” His eyes finally looked away from the holographic screen, just catching sight of the slowly deteriorating hologram as Hypatia glared. “That’s not meant to—You know what, it’s fine. It’s fine. I can fix that. It’s nothing to worry about. Just calm down. Stay calm.”

Her glare only got worse as she testily said, “I am calm. I’m only completely unravelling. Considering the month I’ve had, a bumbling moron like you is barely a nuisance.”

“I am not a moron! Alright, alright, I can fix this. I can fix all of this. It’s only a tiny little problem,” he said, fingers flying over the holographic screen.

When her hologram completely flickered out, it was almost a relief just to be away from him.

 

**_January 14, 2025_ **

He’d only just gotten to the mess after another long and fruitless session of sitting with Herc in medical when he noticed something was off. Gipsy was nowhere to be seen, which in and of itself wasn’t strange, but Striker was sitting three tables away and it wasn’t as if Chuck was around to bother him anymore. That meant something had happened, probably something important, and he’d missed it because of all the time he spent keeping an eye on Herc and making sure he ate, instead of just focusing on his son.

Raleigh didn’t bother going to get a tray, heading towards the table where he and Mako normally met with a frown. There had to be something he was missing. He hadn’t seen Gipsy in days and they were meant to meet with Mako for lunch. Sighing heavily, he slid into the seat next to Mako without looking up, prepared to wait until she’d finished talking to whoever was sitting with her to ask.

“Hey, kid.” The voice was familiar but he couldn’t quite place it, glancing up and more than prepared to correct whoever it was when he recognised them. “I guess I have a lot to explain.”

“Yance?” he asked weakly, hands trembling as he tried to understand what was happening. “You died. We felt it. Knifehead killed you.”

The man who looked like Yancy started to say something but Mako shushed him, turning as much as she could to face Raleigh and taking his hands. It was good, grounding, and the weakening ghost drift at the back of his mind thrumming with warmth and calm helped too. He was still a little too wound up to understand. It couldn’t be Yancy. He’d felt him die.

Mako held Raleigh’s hands tighter, squeezing almost hard enough to hurt as she coaxed, “Breathe. You need to breathe. You are alright. You will continue to be alright if you breathe.”

“I’m okay,” he murmured after another moment, resolutely looking anywhere but the other side of the table. “What’s going on?”

She glanced away, maybe at the man, before answering, “A neural link can be snapped due to a sudden disconnection. Or the jaeger being shut down, such as with Leatherback and Striker. For someone on the other side of the drift, it could mimic death.”

It took a little longer than he wanted for the words to sink in, to make any sense in his mind, but when they did he said slowly, “Yancy was just torn out. And I thought he died because the link snapped. And he didn’t try and find me for five years.”

“I tried to find you,” the man interjected, leaning forward with the same focused look Yancy used to wear. “I don’t know all of how I survived but I did try to find you once I could actually walk. I looked all over Alaska.”

“It was five years. How did you miss me for five years?” Raleigh snapped, wanting so desperately to believe what was going on but not able to just drop it. Five years was a long time to try and look for someone.

“It was two and a half, at most. I was trapped in hospitals for the first two and I couldn’t get out quite as easily as you did. And then Pentecost found me. He told me he was going to bring you back. He didn’t mention I didn’t get to see you.” He sighed heavily after the explanation, looking a lot more than five years older as he rubbed his eyes. “I tried, Ray. I couldn’t get to Hong Kong until after Pitfall. And from what I just heard from your friend, no one knew he’d even found me.”

He thought it over, trying to ignore the tears pricking at his eyes as his mind duly informed him of what this meant, before correcting, “She’s my co-pilot.”

“Does that mean she’s not your friend?” Yancy asked, trying to coax any reaction from his little brother that wasn’t tearful. “Because I’m pretty sure we were co-pilots once, and I thought we were friends.”

The laugh was a little more choked than he’d hoped for but it was still an improvement. He grinned, resting his arms on the table as he turned his attention to Mako. Co-pilot Mako. Making a good impression was definitely going to be his goal. If she was even part of the reason his brothers were still alive, he owed her a lot more than he could say.

“Thank you for looking after my brothers. I know how annoying they both are, especially when Raleigh’s pining over Australians,” he said, ignoring Raleigh’s insulted grumble. “Don’t listen to him, he’s pining. I’ve been dead for five years and I can still tell.”

The look she gave him was a little scolding before she smiled, insisting, “It was no burden. But perhaps you could help Gipsy now you are back. He has some plan.”

Raleigh looked between the two of them, frowning a little again, before muttering, “I feel like all three of you are going to gang up on me now and I’ll be stuck with Striker.”

“Probably,” Yancy agreed, reaching over to ruffle his hair. “You’ll live.”

 

**_February 3, 2025_ **

When Chuck finally woke up, Herc wasn't there. He'd been forced out by his son's doctor, sent to go get some rest and sleep somewhere that wasn't a chair. Raleigh had been more than happy to help make sure he went to his room, his concern for him having grown over the past weeks. No one was meant to live on that little sleep.

It took almost fifteen minutes to get Chuck calm enough to make sense of what he was asking for, voice raspy and weak and barely above a whisper. None of the medical staff were exactly expecting the name that escaped but, after making sure Newt thoroughly disinfected his hands and promised to keep any touching to a minimum, let him in anyway. If it kept Chuck from struggling, then it was definitely an idea they were supportive of.

By the time Newt burst into the room, glasses and tie askew, Chuck was barely able to keep his eyes open. Everything hurt, and not even the dull ache that he was used to from training. Every breath hurt and his eyelids felt too heavy to keep up. He couldn’t even remember what happened but he knew there was something else wrong. His arm felt strange. Numb, maybe.

“Bärchen, don’t move,” Newt blurted, clumsily cupping his cheeks before realising half of Chuck’s jaw was covered in nasty scrapes that probably hurt. “Sorry, no, no, don’t move, just stay still.”

He groaned but nodded as much as he could with one lightly calloused hand still pressed to his cheek, just managing to whisper, “How bad is everything? Did we win?”

He carefully sat on the edge of the bed, letting Chuck clumsily pull at his tie, as he said, “Yeah. The breach is closed, kaiju gone, no more test subjects for me. Your AI ejected your pod before it blew. So you’re alive for a bit longer.”

“What’s wrong with my arm? Feels all weird. Fucking pins and needles,” he slurred, trailing off into a drawn-out yawn as his eyes started to close.

Newt caught the hand wrapped around his tie, prying the stiff fingers loose and gripping his hand tightly as he tried to figure out what to say. He hadn’t been taught how to talk to someone about losing limbs or suffering severe burns. His strong point was science, not talking.

“It’s gone. Arm, totally gone. Pod sort of like caved in from the explosion, and your arm was there, and I mean it’s totally nothing to worry about because it’s all sealed up now and everything and bandaged and you’ll be totally fine and we’ll make you a rocking prosthetic and it’ll all be fine and we’re both totally rock stars now.” He sucked in a deep breath when he’d finished, not realised he’d said almost everything on one gulp of air.

Chuck didn’t say anything for a moment, grip almost painfully tight on Newt’s hand, before demanding, “Pull back the blankets. I needta see it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, bärchen, it could be shocking and stuff. No, no, no. You should wait for the doctor,” Newt decided, nodding stubbornly.

He yanked his hand away before Newt could stop him, wincing as his bandaged arm protested the movement, before shoving the blankets back so hard that they flew up and hit his boyfriend in the face. Newt was still trying to get the fabric back onto the bed without losing his glasses when Chuck started ripping at his bandages, viciously tearing at the blood-stained fabric as he started to look more and more panicked.

“It’s gone. It’s gone, it’s fucking gone,” he said, the panic on his face strangely absent from his voice as his fingers hesitantly poked at the stump where his arm should have been.

Newt wasn’t sure what the protocol was for a situation like this but reached over and tried to pull his hand away from the raw and open wound, gripping Chuck’s fingers tightly to stop them from poking at it again. He didn’t say anything about what had happened to him, the wounds covering most of his right side or the fact he was missing his arm, but Newt wasn’t expecting it and was grateful he wasn’t stuck trying to talk about that.

“What the hell did you do to your eye? Looks fucking stupid,” Chuck eventually muttered, glancing up from the mess of blankets. “That from drifting with the bloody kaiju?”

He nodded slowly, not exactly enjoying the irritated look he was already getting, before offering, “You should see Hypatia. Looks even weirder on her. I can get her, you can laugh, she can threaten murder, it’ll be great.”

“GLaDOS,” Chuck corrected with a yawn, eyelids slowly closing. “Telling you, she’s bloody GLaDOS. ‘Cept GLaDOS is more impressive.”

“Sure, sure, bärchen. Less impressive, yep. Even though she could drift with a kaiju and GLaDOS couldn’t, she’s less.” He nodded, not surprised by the lack of answer. Chuck fell asleep almost the second he closed his eyes.

 

**_February 10, 2025_ **

Striker knew he should probably be quiet about everything, especially considering the fact that his brother had only woken up a week ago, but he wasn’t exactly good at doing what he should. It was starting to drive him insane, how damn stubborn Herc was about the whole mess and how stupid it was that they weren’t just admitting it so they could be happy. He just wanted them to be happy.

He waited until Max was due for his walk, volunteering for the job the second Herc mentioned it. If his father thought it was strange, he didn’t say anything, just set the device in Max’s collar and informed him if they were gone for more than an hour he would come looking. Striker couldn’t really see the need, considering they’d only be in the dome, but he dutifully nodded before heading out the door.

Max was the one who found Raleigh in the end, stump of a tail wagging as he trotted up to the ranger with a big doggy grin. He crouched down to fuss over the dog, the two of them fast friends after all the times he’d taken him for walks and dinner while Chuck was unconscious, and Striker let them have a moment to just be dumb puppies together before clearing his throat.

“My father wants your dick,” he said bluntly, aware he probably should have lead into that more but too sick of this nonsense to care. “And Gipsy said you got a thing for him, so just bloody do something about it before the pining gets any more fucking painful to see.”

Raleigh didn’t reply right away, staring up at him incredulously, before managing, “Gipsy told you I like your pilot. And you just believed him.”

Striker rolled his eyes as he crouched next to him, shushing Max as he whined. “I want my dad to be happy, yeah? You get that, right? I want my father to be happy. From what I hear, you happen to be pretty decent at making people happy and now that your brother’s back too you ain’t gonna be moping about that. You can make him happy and he needs that. He needs that and he likes you and you like him if Gips ain’t lying about it. Why’s it so wrong for me to want you pair to be happy?”

“You announced it as ‘wants your dick’, that might have something to do with it,” he muttered, scrunching the fur on Max’s neck. “He has enough to think about right now. I’m not going to push him about this until Chuck is back on his feet, at least.”

“Ooooooooooor,” he started, drawing out the word as much as he could manage. “You could go and he could get laid for the first time in a bloody year. I mean, that’d work too. Just a suggestion, course, but you’d probably both benefit. And you could be happy and me and Gips would shut the fuck up about it all.”

He looked supremely unconvinced, giving Max one last pat as he said, “No, you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t. But at least you’d have Herc to bitch to about how annoying we are,” Striker countered, well aware that wasn’t his most convincing argument.

Raleigh groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he stood, and he could accept that their conversation was over. It didn’t seem like the most productive attempt but at least he’d tried and maybe, if he was really lucky, it would be a little effective. He just wanted them to be happy. Maybe he was being far too pushy about it, but that was just how he was.

 

**_July 10, 2026_ **

Gipsy opened his eyes and immediately paused, not sure what was happening. It didn’t feel like it should. He shouldn’t even be able to feel.

“Gips, can you hear us?” Raleigh asked softly, leaning over into his line of sight. That was odd. He didn’t lie down, ever. The closest he got was sitting. “You need to say something.”

He tried but his vocal processor seem to be malfunctioning, nothing but a muffled sound escaping. The quiet chuckle only added to his confusion before something was touching him and things weren’t meant to be able to touch him. He was just pixels.

“Look in your systems. There are new commands installed,” Mako said, voice calm and infinitely comforting as the panic grew. “Use them.”

He could just see the streaks of deep violet in her hair where there used to be blue, barely in his line of sight as he tried to focus. Gipsy didn’t completely understand what she meant but was able to locate the bundle of new protocols in his program, not all of them immediately comprehensible as his confusion lingered. At least the basics were readable.

“I don’t understand.”

That garnered another laugh, that one definitely Yancy, as he tried to locate something in his system that would indicate what was happening. Yancy laughing was normally a blessing after five years thinking he was dead, but considering the circumstances he would prefer if his brother wasn’t finding amusement in his utter confusion.

It took another few moments to find enough to be able to sit up, still infinitely confused about the whole situation, before cautiously asking, “Do I have a body?”

“Yes,” Raleigh laughed, throwing himself forward and wrapping him in his arm. In a hug. “Chuck and Mako figured it out. Mostly Mako. Striker has one too.”

Gipsy hesitated, lifting his arms awkwardly and trying to make them wrap around the warmth that was his brother. It didn’t quite click at first, what this meant, but when it did his grip tightened. He had a body. He wasn’t just pixels anymore.

“Oh, god,” he mumbled, letting Raleigh pull back and immediately reaching for Mako. “I’m hugging all of you. All of you. I’ll even fucking hug Chuckles.”

She wrapped her arms around him tight, pressing her lips to his forehead before she murmured, “I do not think he would appreciate that.”

“Then I’ll have to hug you extra,” he said happily, reaching up to carefully tuck her hair behind her ear. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

She just smiled, the same fond smile he always got and still wasn’t sick of, before she let out a surprised sound as Yancy wrapped his arms around both of them. Gipsy shot him the closest he could muster to annoyed look, shifting one arm to try and wrap it around him too.

Yancy grinned brightly at him, reaching up to ruffle his hair, as he asked, “Good birthday present, Gips?”

“I don’t have a birthday, I’m an AI. But if I did, this would be a pretty good present,” he conceded, reluctantly releasing both his pilots and glancing around. “You said Striker too.”

“He’s with his sister. And Chuck’s finishing Crimson’s body so she’ll be ready by tomorrow,” Raleigh offered, not really sure his brother would care that much about Crimson but adding it anyway. “You have to do testing before you can go see him. To make sure your legs are put together properly.”

Gispy groaned, ignoring Raleigh’s playful teasing, but couldn’t quite keep the grin off his face. He had a body. He wasn’t just pixels anymore. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could have a bit more of a life with his pilots than he could before. All in all, it wasn’t a bad reward for saving the whole damn world.

“And, now that you have a body and all, you and Striker have new rules,” Yancy announced, tone verging on serious. “Lots of new rules.”

That, on the other hand, he could definitely do without.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it!   
> Except not, because there is a sequel coming that details life after the final scene. Like, how they react to the bodies, how they cope, how does world governments react, what the actual fuck is Lucky like when she's not watching her nephew go on a suicide run. Lots of things, I promise. And new characters to be added, new dynamics, maybe pranks. I guess we just have to wait and see what actually makes it to the page.


End file.
